The Definition of Happiness
by noelswonderland
Summary: How do you repent for ruining someone's life? Hanamiya x OC x Kiyoshi
1. maybe you were the ocean

**Author's Note: **For NaNoWriMo I wanted to do something decidedly different from all the shorts I had done thus far, and the result of which was this. It took a long, long time to complete which is why I'm only now starting to publish it. I wanted to be able to _finish_ something and be able to go back over it with a fine-tooth comb and fix any plot holes. Also a huge thank you to the people who beta'd for me, supported me, and helped me complete this. Your help was invaluable to me!_  
_

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

_maybe you were the ocean_

_when i was just a stone_

**chapter one**

_ "It's a little late to have a conscience now."_

_ Her hands curl into fists at her sides, and she can feel herself trembling beneath that harsh gaze of his. "I followed you up until this point," she concedes, "But... it's wrong. I can't do it anymore. The injuries before were minor—but that player... his knee... what if he doesn't recover?"_

_ He cocks his head. "Is that my problem? He's garbage—they're all garbage once they have been broken."_

_ One glimpse at his face and she can see that ever-present smirk curling up on his lips. To her horror, he seems to be thoroughly amused. It is almost as though he feels _proud—_as though he considers this an _accomplishment._ She shudders at the thought, swallowing a lump in the back of her throat. "I... I can't do it anymore."_

_Those cold eyes gaze at her for a moment, and the amusement slowly dissipates, replaced by a look of boredom instead. "You're running away?" Even his voice has grown frigid as ice._

_ "Think of it however you want. I... I'm going to apologize to their coach, and I'm going to see if there's anything I can do to make amends." Her chin dips toward her chest as she averts her eyes from him. After hesitating for a moment, she spins around and starts toward the exit of the locker room, only to be seized by the arm. She chirps in surprise at the strength of his vicegrip._

_ "Kurosawa," he whispers from beside her, the warmth of his breath caressing the shell of her ear as he leans toward her. "Maybe I should break you, too?" Suddenly his fingers constrict tighter on her arm, his knuckles turning white._

_ Gritting her teeth from the pain, she tries desperately to wrest herself away from him to no avail. Somehow she ends up being spun around, her feet stumbling and nearly giving out from beneath her. When she jerks her head up to look at him, she finds herself disconcerted by the menacing look on Hanamiya's face._

_ "There's no way I'll say that, dumb ass. You're already trash. There's no fun in breaking someone like you." Contrary to his words, he is still wearing a manic expression as his lips peel back in a terrifying smile. Although he gives the front of being disinterested, the grip he maintains on her arm conveys an entirely different meaning—a warning that beneath the pretense, he is not above going to any extreme._

_ "J-just let me go," she stutters, still struggling to pull herself away._

_ He cocks his head to the side, gazing down at her condescending as he suddenly releases his hold on her, dropping his hand to his side. "Go on," he says, shooing her. It's almost as though he's encouraging her to challenge him. She does not doubt that—because she knows, better than anyone, how much he relishes _crushing_ people._

_Hastily, she staggers out of the locker room. Although she can feel herself seizing up with fear at the thought of defying him, her conscience will not allow her to drop the matter. An apology—at the very least... without him knowing... she needs to apologize the victim._

—

The sound of footsteps approaching her desk coaxes her to open her eyes, blinking back the heaviness of sleep that lingers. Yet while she awakens, she makes no outward movement to alert those around her. Instead she listens in on their conversation.

"Hey, I don't think that's a good idea."

"What's the problem? She fell asleep here, I just wanna see what's under her hair. Don't you think it must be some horrible disfigurement?"

His guess is not entirely inaccurate. All the same, she does not feel inclined to allow them the pleasure of the truth. So Tomoe straightens herself, ebony locks falling asymmetrical across the right half of her face, shielding it from view completely.

In the same moment that she sits up, the guy who had been approaching her has his hand outstretched. He freezes when he realizes that she is not, in fact, sleeping, and remains standing there with his arm awkwardly hanging mid-air. His jaw drops agape, eyes rounded—not unlike a deer in the headlights.

Tomoe cocks her head at the man, her bangs shifting across her face but never revealing what lies beneath. "Did you want something?" she asks in a low voice, the bored expression on her face indicating her lack of interest.

"Tch, never mind." Appearing annoyed, the man turns his back, shoving his hands into his pockets and stalking back toward the desks near the front of the classroom where his friends are standing.

A quick glance at the clock tells her that the lunch period has yet to pass. There is still some time to kill. Pressing a hand to the surface of her desk, she lifts herself out of her seat. Strolling down the aisle, she notices how the group of guys all seem to turn their eyes to her, as though watching with a sense of paranoia as she passes.

There seems to be some odd rumors circulating about the school. Maybe it's her uncanny appearance that has started them—her hair chopped so unevenly, and her bangs purposefully groomed to hide the entire right side of her face. It is an oversimplification to call her ugly. Her face, at least as much as is visible, is actually quite attractive. It is her sloppy way of dressing coupled with her odd hair style and eccentric behavior that coaxes her classmates to steer clear.

A peal of laughter echoes through the hallway, and as she rounds the corner, Tomoe runs straight into the source. But it dies out quickly as soon as the two girls, from which it originated, spot her coming their way. They turn their heads, eyes averting as though pretending not to see her as she passes.

Almost as quickly as she enters the cafeteria, she nearly runs headlong into someone else. While she does manage to halt herself before impact, a crushing force slams down against her foot. Aside from a grimace, she makes no other outward sign of acknowledging the pain.

"Ah... I seem to have to stepped on something," a voice remarks. Murky brown eyes regard her condescendingly as he tilts his head back, a smirk spreading across his face. "But it's only _trash_."

She stubbornly refuses to give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm, and while Hanamiya clocks her for some kind of reaction, there is only disappointment to be had. When he realizes that she will not bend under his tactics, he merely clicks his tongue and passes her by, finally alleviating the pressure of his own foot which had been crushing hers. But it is his presence more than anything else that is so oppressive to the point she feels like she is suffocating, and she only realizes that she was holding her breath once he is gone.

Any appetite that existed prior to running into him has been squashed along with her hopes of making it through the day without encountering him. And maybe her poor reputation has more to do with Hanamiya's occasional appearance around her more than anything else.

Her hands rest as trembling fists at her side, but soon loosen as she resigns herself to returning to the classroom. It is not the first time that she has skipped eating lunch. It certainly won't be the last as long as she is at Kirisaki Daiichi.

The rest of the day proceeds in much the same manner as any other; she sits at the back of the class, gazing out the window and tuning everything else out as teacher drones on. It's impossible for her to pay attention; Hanamiya sits just a few seats over. And while he never pays her presence any heed, the mere image of him is enough for her stomach to knot up, and the nausea is overwhelming.

As soon as the afternoon bell rings, signalling the end of the school day, she nearly sprints out of the classroom to avoid any possible confrontation. Although for the past year, they have scarcely spoken a word to one another. They are nearly strangers, save for the accidental encounters such as the one that happened at lunch time.

_It was just bad luck,_ she assures herself bitterly as she yanks her shoe locker open, hastily drawing her loafers out and throwing them to the ground. It is not an exaggeration to say she rushes out of the front doors faster than any of her peers, her bookbag dangling loosely in her grasp as she runs through the front gate of the school.

After several minutes of straight out sprinting, she tentatively casts a gaze over her shoulder, relieved to see no one has followed her. It is pure paranoia, Tomoe realizes. Everyone in school ignores her. And yet, she suspects that at least Hanamiya would not so easily ignore her if he _knew_ where she went after school.

—

"Ah, you came to visit again today." A large, goofy grin breaks across his face as he holds up a bag of caramel popcorn, popping one into his mouth. The crunch of it is audible and he seems quite content as he munches away.

Tomoe lingers near the door, watching the brown-haired man with a weathered expression. "You're eating that again," she remarks in a quiet voice, seeming to indicate disapproval.

"That's a scary expression," he tells her somewhat jokingly as he holds the bag out toward her. "Do you want some?" His head tilts with the question and the smile on his face widens. If Hanamiya can be compared to a creeping darkness encroaching upon her, then this man is the light that holds him at bay.

"Sure..." Her voice is quiet and almost seems to melt away in the silence of the room. She hesitantly crosses the distance that exists between them, approaching his bedside with her hand outstretched. Digging into the bag, she withdraws a small handful, pressing them one by one past her lips.

"Ah, you're even wearing your uniform today," he remarks. His eyes seem to be drawn to her school bag, which she is still holding at her side.

"I was in a hurry." That is not entirely a lie at least. "How was your therapy today?"

He scratches at the back of his head, chuckling. "It seems like I'm making good progress, but the nurses still nag that I'm pushing myself too much. If they have any say, I'll probably be resting in here longer than usual before I can go home."

"You need to listen to them," she scolds him.

"Of course, of course." Although he outwardly agrees, his words just seem to be his attempt to placate her and passify her anger. He outstretches his large hand, patting her gently on the head. "My days of therapy should be over soon, anyways."

"You're that eager to play again?" The moment the question escapes her lips, she turns her gaze down, tightly gripping the single caramel kernel still left in her hand. There is an audible crunch as it is smashed against her fingers—a sound similar to the one she heard _that_ day. The image still haunts her. The moment she closes her eyelids, she relives it all over again.

_The crowd is jeering, egging on the two battling teams. The scoreboard has left everyone on edge, particularly Tomoe. She clasps her hands together, gaze swaying to the opposite end of the court. Other than a few reserve members, she sits alone on the bench—watching from the sidelines._

_ The moment she hears that sound of snapping fingers, her heart sinks. She is no stranger to the tactics that Hanamiya employs. And everything plays out in slow motion—especially the echo of something akin to an audible crack. Maybe it's just her imagination, but from the anguished cry that follows, she can tell that the pain on the face of their opponent is _definitely_ real._

"Tomoe-san?"

She blinks away the image of Kiyoshi's face contorted in pain. It seems so radically different from the grin that he is giving her now. And her heart settles a little. "I was just thinking about something." Uncurling her fingers, she glances down at the crushed piece of popcorn in her hand, and quickly dumps it into her mouth, chewing once before swallowing.

"I've been getting a lot of texts asking about my progress," he confides, reaching for his phone. He flips it open and holds it out toward her. There is a long history of recent texts—all from a name that Tomoe vaguely recognizes as the coach of Seirin's team.

"She must be anxious for you to return."

"Mm, I hear there are some pretty promising new members this year. There won't be a repeat of last time—we'll make it to the Winter Cup."

Talking about basketball makes her feel a little uneasy, but it's unavoidable. Her lips twitch, as though trying to force a smile, but it looks more akin to grimace than anything else. Realizing it's futile, she finally speaks the question that has been weighing on her mind. "Teppei-san. What happens if... you run into..." Her voice trails off, her words strangled, as though it's impossible to even utter them.

"We'll play it out on the court like we always do," he says with a laugh, as though not even recognizing the strain on her face.

"Right..." Her gaze drifts back down to the ground.

Something warm caresses her arm. When she looks over to see what it is, she realizes that he is grasping her wrist. Surprised, her head jerks—their gaze meeting. "You have to come watch me play again," he tells her.

There is a short pause before she says, "I will." There is no indication of whether or not she wants to. Maybe it doesn't matter. Their conversations are always awkward and stilted like this, with him doing the majority of the talking, and her dreary demeanor bringing a damper to everything.

"Even if we play Kirisaki Daiichi?"

Her blood nearly runs cold at the mention of them, and she blanches. "I..." The thought of Hanamiya discovering that she has been visiting him since their decisive match last year makes her want to run—to escape. She knows the repercussions would not be merely a scoff or a harsh word thrown in her direction.

No, if Hanamiya knew it would be _much,_ _much _worse.


	2. where everything goes grey

**Author's Note:** To answer a question, yes this story will be following the manga/anime. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! ;A; Also a big thank you to the people who helped make this chapter possible, you lovely people know who you are.

* * *

_between the black and white, where everything goes grey, _

_and everything's unsaid, undone, and the negative bleeds away_

**chapter two**

_Glazed, unfocused eyes peer vacantly over her. "Who are you?" There is an emptiness to his voice—he almost sounds as though he is dazed. He is looking in her direction, but she is not sure if he is really looking _at_ her._

_ Her hands clutch the hem of her skirt, the fabric balling up in her trembling fists. Fear courses through her like a poison, and she seizes up under its influence. Bowing her head, she fumbles with the words that she wants to say. She came here without any plan, waltzing right into his hospital room thanks to his permission—which she had never hoped to receive in the first place—and now she has to try to think of some apology adequate enough for everything he has gone through._

_ "Your uniform," he remarks. "You're from Kirisaki Daiichi."_

_ Her face blanches, eyes going round. Tomoe does not have the courage to chance a glance at him—too afraid that his gaze will be full of hatred and resentment. Cowardly, she collapses onto the ground, her legs giving out beneath her. "I'm... s-sorry," she chokes out in a strangled voice._

_ "Sorry?" he echoes back._

_ Of course he's not satisfied with a mere apology, and while she does not deserve the chance to explain, she tries to anyways. "What happened to your knee—I'm so sorry. I'm so very, very sorry." She bends her body forward until her forehead is nearly touching the ground._

_ "Why are you here?"_

_ Still gripping her skirt tightly, Tomoe struggles to come up with a solid reason that won't give him the impression that she is only here to soothe her own ego. "I... I know my apology... won't take it back. I know that I can't do anything, but... what happened on the court yesterday—it was wrong. My team was wrong."_

_ There is a moment of silence, but she dares not look up to see why. Then, finally, he speaks again, "Did you know that would happen?"_

_ She swallows hard—that is the question she feared he would ask the most. "I... I _know_ my team has a rough, unfair playing style. I... I didn't think it would get this bad." It still sounds like an excuse, she realizes bitterly. But it's better than the absolute truth—that she has always known, always feared, and yet never done anything because she has been too afraid to ever oppose Hanamiya. Tagging along behind him like a lost puppy has only ever been for her own protection. This is the first time she has actually been brave enough to take a stand._

_ "Does your _'coach'_ know you're here?"_

_ Another hard hitting question. Tomoe wets her lips as she tries to formulate an answer, but she suspects any lies will be easily seen through. "N... no. He said not to come here. But... I had to come anyways."_

_ "Why?"_

_ "Because... it's the right thing to do," she says with conviction, finally peering up at him. Tears have welled up in the edges of her eyes, though through great effort, Tomoe has managed to hold them back._

_ What is especially surprising is the smile she finds herself met with. "Do you want some?" he asks, holding out an open bag of caramel popcorn. It's clear that he has already been munching on them for some time._

_ "A-are you supposed to be eating that?" she hesitates._

_ "No," he answers thoughtfully, shrugging as though he doesn't mind defying the hospital's orders. "So you should eat some with me before a nurse comes by and sees me." A grin cracks on his face as he shakes the bag at her, as though encouraging her to approach._

_ Hesitantly, Tomoe peels herself off the floor. It doesn't seem right to waltz up and carelessly stick her hand in the bag. Honestly speaking, the whole situation still feels pretty surreal. Is he forgiving her? No, how can he? But she cannot find the courage to ask whether he is or not._

_ So she ends up advancing toward him with short, tentative steps, reaching a trembling hand out toward the bag. Tomoe keeps her only visible eye trained on his face, as though watching for any sudden movements. She acts much like a scared animal, approaching on behalf of the temptation of food—not because she holds any manner of trust for the person offering it._

_ Yet for as paranoid as she is about him making a sudden movement, he remains still the whole time. And she does manage to dip her hand in and take a small handful out. It seems impolite not to show her gratitude, so she mutters a small, "Th-thank you," before eating one piece._

_ "Do you like it?"_

_ The sweetness of the caramel melts onto her tongue. To her surprise, despite the fact that she has no particular affinity for sugary foods, it's actually really enjoyable. A small smile tugs at her lips. "Y...yeah."_

_ "Doesn't it make you feel better?" he says with a smile, taking a handful out for himself. This man seems to have an incredibly easy-going nature, especially for someone who is in a hospital._

_ "Are you forgiving me?" she asks in disbelief, blurting the words right out. Almost as soon as they have been spoken, she shamefully lowers her head._

_ "Is there something to forgive? Did you do something wrong?"_

_ Somehow, she feels almost indignant at the insinuation in his words. It's almost as though he is saying that she is innocent—and she doesn't want him to take pity on her and sweep the problem under the rug. "But I was there at the game, I saw. I watched—"_

_ His eyes soften as he interrupts, "I don't have many visitors. My team is still busy with the competition."_

_ "...huh?"_

_ "I'll share my popcorn with you." He shakes the bag and holds it out toward her again, giving her another grin._

_ "You... want me to come back here... again?"_

_ "Mm," he gives a sharp nod. "It's boring just sitting around. And since you don't believe me when I say I don't blame you, then that can be your proof."_

_ "Proof?" she echoes again, her face riddled with confusion._

_ "Yeah. When we become friends, that will be your proof."_

_ "Friends..." the word sounds somewhat foreign when she speaks it herself. It is not something she has ever really had before. Hanamiya was always someone that she followed out of fear. Never before has she seen herself as an equal to someone. It creates a warm, airy feeling that swells in her breast. She can feel the smile spreading across her face._

_ "So you'll come?" he prompts her to answer._

_ Although she still feels a little hesitant, a part of her is a bit... excited. And she gives a short nod. "O-okay..."_

_ "There is only one condition," he says, suddenly turning serious. The almost grim expression on his face makes her heart sink. "Don't let Hanamiya find out that you are visiting." It is an almost unexpected advisement, both because it's more than obvious that she cannot let Hanamiya find out, and because she is surprised that he actually goes out of her way to tell him as much._

_ "A-alright..."_

_ "Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself," he says with a hearty laugh, changing the mood of the conversation as he awkwardly scratches at the back of his head. "I'm Teppei. Kiyoshi Teppei."_

_ "Tomoe," she squeaks back nervously, "Kurosawa Tomoe."_

_ "You're a second year?"_

_ Tomoe gives a small nod, her bangs swaying over her left eye with the movement. "Yeah..."_

_ "Then let's cut the formalities, Tomoe-san."_

_ Her cheeks heat up instantly. It is a reaction that she can scarcely stifle, because she is caught by surprise at how he suddenly calls her name so familiarly. And at first, she hopes he does not expect her to do the same, but that look on his face tells her otherwise. He's waiting for her to call him the same way. "T-Teppei-san..."_

_ "Good!"_

—

A hand suddenly slams down against the table, making her jump in her seat. And when Tomoe peers over at the person that has managed to furtively sneak up behind her, she pales considerably the moment she sees his face.

"I think I'll sit here for lunch," Hanamiya drawls in a voice coated in underlying meaning as he slams his tray down beside hers. A few of his other teammates, seeming to have followed after him, quickly take up occupancy at the other vacant seats around the table.

It is not their usual seating arrangement, she knows—because she purposefully picked a table in the far off corner, the furthest from the one that Hanamiya and his teammates normally sit at.

Although she is not sure what his aim is, suddenly wanting to sit beside her when he has spent the past year largely ignoring her—save for the occasional coincidental confrontation such as the one in the hallway yesterday—she isn't about to find out. Grabbing her tray, she immediately starts to extract herself from the table.

At least until a fist slams down, rocking the whole table. Even Hanamiya's teammates stiffen at the show of raucous noise. Those menacing eyes of his turn up to look at Tomoe, a thin smile spreading on his lips. "Ah, there was _trash_ here that I didn't even notice. Come to think of it, Yamazaki mentioned seeing you yesterday after school."

Tomoe blanches, and her grip on the tray tightens to the point that her knuckles go white. She tries her best to avoid his gaze, turning her face downward. She can already sense where this conversation is headed.

"A little strange for you to be... visiting a rehabilitation center."

Her blood runs cold. _Rehab...? He knows...?_

A heavy hand settles against her shoulder, forcing her back down into her seat. "Trying to leave?" he remarks, leaning in toward her face. "What's the hurry? You're being so cold, _former manager_." The words have a sweet tone to them, but they are coated in poison all the same.

Struggling anymore will only excite him, she knows. When Hanamiya senses resistance in his target, it heightens his sadistic tendencies. That is the last thing that she wants. So with a look of resignation, she forces her body to remain still, despite the voice screaming in the back of her head, telling her to run.

"That's more like it," he says encouragingly. "We were... _concerned_ about you."

"I'm fine," she says stiffly.

Although her assurance is meant to be a deterrent to further conversation, his eyes seem to light up with intrigue. "Kurosawa," he hisses out her name in a whisper. "Is there someone that you're visiting at that rehab center?" On the surface it looks like an attempt to coax her into lying and contradicting what she just said. In reality, he's taunting her again—because Hanamiya is _cunning_. He's perceptive enough to guess why she would be going to such a place when she isn't the one receiving care. This is all merely a game to him.

"Yamazaki-san must have seen wrong," she tells him resolutely, forcing the words out while trying desperately to hide the tremor in her voice.

The man in question merely sits silently on the other side of the table, eating his food. He does not seem keen on the conversation. And the other players, in the meantime, seem intensely interested in the course of the conversation.

"I heard something interesting recently, Kurosawa. Seirin High apparently has some new members, and performed exceptionally well at Interhigh. Did you know that they'll be playing in the Wintercup preliminaries?"

There is an obvious reason in mentioning this, she can tell. But she is not about to bite into the bait that he is putting out for her. "I'm not really interested in basketball anymore."

"Oh? But what if... Iron Heart goes back onto their team? Will you be interested then?"

Tomoe blanches again, and she struggles to swallow back her own fear. Her hands are in tight fists on her lap, thankfully hidden beneath the table. "That has nothing to do with me."

The hand still perched on her shoulder suddenly tightens as Hanamiya leans in closer, that smirk spreading across his face—not unlike a cheshire cat. "Kurosawa, I think it's about time you returned to the team."

All semblance of courage disappears from her face, replaced by a look of horror mixed with despair.

"Ah, there. You look the best with that expression on your face," he whispers, his warm breath tickling the nape of her neck.


	3. driven from our parallels

**Author's Note:** Since I'm going to be gone for the weekend, I wanted to put this up a _wee_ bit earlier. Thank you all for the lovely reviews. The feedback was incredibly motivating, and even constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. It's the only way to learn, and I'm always trying to become a better writer. ;3 Please enjoy this latest update!

* * *

_with splinters in our teeth, we're driven from our parallels,_

_our path a prison, bound to walk where countless feet already fell_

**chapter three**

"Excuse me."

Tomoe is skulking through one of the hallways in the rehab center, clutching her book-bag to her chest as she hurries to make it to Kiyoshi's room before he inevitably leaves. She is startled when an unfamiliar voice suddenly calls out to her. Her feet immediately freeze in place, as though rooted to the ground. Face deathly pale as her heart hammers in her chest, she turns to face the person addressing her. "Y-yes...?"

"Are you the young lady that has been visiting my grandson everyday?" Contrary to her fear that a classmate or someone from the basketball team might have followed her, it's the wrinkled face of an elderly woman who greets her. And the woman offers Tomoe a gentle yet genuine smile, her old hazy eyes creasing shut.

"O-oh, are you... Teppei-san's grandmother?" There is no question in her mind that it could be his _mother_. She's far too old for that.

"Yes," the woman says with a nod. "You must be Kurosawa Tomoe-san. He told me a lot about you."

Tomoe's face darkens at the thought. What would there be to say? She cannot think of a single positive thing that Kiyoshi could possibly come up with to tell anyone about her. Fidgeting from her own nervousness, she averts her gaze to the floor. "I-I see..."

"You must be in a hurry; we'll be leaving soon, once Teppei has had his rest. I'm sorry to keep you, dear. I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to visit him so often."

Those kind words startle Tomoe—in part because she had been expecting reproach, or at the very least some critical commentary about her unkempt appearance. Yet this elderly woman does not scan her with a critical eye, nor does she give the impression of being someone judgmental. She only smiles with as much sincerity as is conveyed in her words.

People like this—people who are genuinely _good_ and kind—they scare Tomoe. She finds herself anxious to escape. This woman is too much like Kiyoshi, and she can understand where he gets it from now. "Th-thanks," she manages to spit out before hastily brushing by the older woman, heading for Kiyoshi's door.

She hesitates when her hand meets with the cold steel of the knob. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees the older woman—her hair turned gray and wispy, contained within an old cap—waving cheerfully at her.

Again, a sense of unease seizes at Tomoe and she hurriedly pushes Kiyoshi's door open. Darting inside, she closes the door firmly behind her before even peering over at his bed. And the moment she does, she is greeted with that same goofy smile she just narrowly escaped from.

"I didn't think you were coming," he confesses with a small laugh. "I was getting ready to leave."

Her heart sinks at the thought that he has been actually _anticipating_ her visit. "I... had something to do," she lies in a whisper, edging a little bit closer to him. She eyes a chair that is sitting just a short distance from his bed, but dismisses the thought of taking a seat for the pure fact that it's just _too close_.

Whether he notices her gaze or not, Kiyoshi suddenly points toward the chair. "You can sit here," he offers.

"You said you're leaving soon."

"That's true," he agrees, "But you look pretty worn out."

It flusters her a bit that he pays such close attention that he notices something like that. However, it is true that she largely sprinted the whole way here just trying to be make it in time so she could catch him. She is just thankful he has yet to query about the reason for the recent lateness of her visits.

Breathing a sigh of resignation, she shuffles over, pulls the seat a few inches back, and then plants herself on it. Setting her school bag on the ground, Tomoe folds her hands in her lap and averts her gaze to the floor. She feels more nervous and insecure than usual.

"Is something wrong?"

When she peers up at him and meets his gaze, Tomoe discovers a look of genuine concern on his face. It's unusual for Kiyoshi to be very serious. And in the rare cases that he is, he usually breaks it up quite quickly with an ill-timed joke or awkward remark. He's incredibly talented at diffusing the tension in any situation.

She gives him a stiff smile. "No, just tired... from school."

A part of her expects him to pursue the matter, but as though he can read her eyes—pleading with him _not_ to—Kiyoshi lets it go. Instead, he reaches for something at his side. She quickly realizes that it's a bag of caramel popcorn. It's become something of a habit for him to always have one handy, especially on days where he notices that she seems particularly stressed. And as per the usual, he holds it out toward her. "Want some?"

"Alright," she agrees reluctantly, stretching a hand out toward the bag, retracting it moments later with a small handful contained within her fist. Plucking a piece of popcorn up, she pops it into her mouth. Usually she would relish the sweet flavor, but it tastes strangely bitter today.

Silence settles between them, and Kiyoshi takes to trying to throw pieces of popcorn in the air and catch them in his mouth. He fails fantastically, whether on purpose or by pure clumsiness, and that manages to elicit something of a strangled laugh from Tomoe.

"Ah! I heard it!" he says with a grin, pointing a finger at her.

She quickly sobers up, holding her sleeve over her mouth to hide the small fraction of a smile left behind. "I met your grandmother in the hallway."

"Oh? Did she say something to you?"

Tomoe gives a small nod. "She's... a real nice person. You're very lucky." There is something of a wistful look in her eyes as she drops her hand back down to her lap.

"I agree," Kiyoshi responds with a smile.

"How was rehab today?"

"Mm..." he gives a thoughtful, if not conflicted expression. It almost seems like he's about to tell her some _bad_ news.

Concerned, she leans forward in the chair. "W-what is it?" Tomoe can feel the panic rising, her heart beat increasing. "D-did something happen?"

Kiyoshi peeks over at her and breaks out into a grin, reaching his own hand out toward her. He presses the tip of his index finger at her forehead, poking her right between the brows. "You have a lot of lines here."

"That doesn't answer my question..." she says with a frown.

He laughs as she pulls away from him. "My progress is right on track, you don't have to worry."

"I bet your team is happy to hear that."

"Yeah, I'm anxious to get back to them."

Despite being the one to bring it up, her expression darkens when she hears him say that. She sinks back in her seat, slumping over. Her jagged bangs hang lopsidedly across the left side of her face, shifting when she peers back up at Kiyoshi. "Has the doctor said anything about you playing again?"

"It's not a problem," he assures. But this time the smile he is wearing is not the usual whole-hearted one. Tomoe can see it in his eyes... he's lying. But she is at least perceptive enough to realize that it's not something that he wants to talk about.

"I think it's time I leave, I have to get back home before dark." That's really just an excuse more than anything. "I'll see you tomorrow, Teppei-san." Tomoe stands suddenly, grabbing her schoolbag. She gives a quick bow before heading toward the door, her skirt swaying against the base of her knees with every movement that takes her farther away from the boy on the bed.

"Be careful on your way home, Tomoe-san," he calls back after her.

—

Something blurs in front of her vision, followed shortly by the sound of a fist slamming against the surface of her desk. It echoes around the classroom, which grows eerily silent. Since it is barely morning, most people are gathered in their cliques, chatting away the minutes until the first lesson begins.

In sharp contrast, Tomoe is already seated—staring off into the distance as she usually does. Only this morning, she is interrupted by an unlikely visitor. She does not have to follow the length of the arm in front of her to know who it is.

"Kurosawa," a sickeningly familiar voice coos at her from above. "I brought you your notebook. You left it behind yesterday during practice."

Even in her peripheral vision, she can see a blur of movement on his face—no doubt a smirk. It takes every ounce of willpower she has not to flinch at his words. Instead, she responds in a clipped voice, "This isn't my notebook."

"Oh, but it is. Or don't you remember why you were ever part of the basketball team here to begin with?" Those words are hissed out a quiet whisper that only ever reaches her ears. And while he says it, he keeps that sadistic smile on his face, his eyes trained on her, watching for the slightest hint of fear to cross her face.

Chilled to the bone by the venom in his voice, Tomoe nervously peers down at the notebook. The cover is crisp and clean, and she can guess that there's probably not a marked page within it. That must mean—her face goes deathly pale as she jerks her head to look up at him, incredulous. "Y-you don't...?"

"Ah, there's that expression again."

She swallows hard, realizing that this is the exact reaction he had been hoping for. "I... I don't want to..."

Just as she is trying to stutter out a refusal, she feels a hand settle on her shoulder. It squeezes lightly at first, but the pressure gradually begins to increase. "What is that? Are you saying something? Speak up. I can't _hear_ you, Kurosawa."

Her lips tremble as she stares up at him, her eyes growing watery. It is obvious enough that he _can_ hear her. Yet those words are spoken loud enough to sound like friendly conversation to other people, masking his antagonizing tone. There is a warning contained within it—the repercussions for refusal are unimaginable.

"You know what disgusts me the most?" he whispers, leaning in closer. Again she can feel his breath, moist against the shell of her ear. "More than the sickening goody two-shoes that we broke last year... is the trash that keeps visiting him."

Her heart drops into the pit of her stomach, and she can feel the bile rising in her throat, the bitter taste seeping into her mouth and rolling across her tongue. It's difficult to breathe. And her whole body feels as though it's frozen, encased in ice—she can't move an inch.

Yet for as horrified as she is, when Hanamiya leans away, he seems to still be smiling at her. He seems to derive great pleasure from her countenance—a contortion of fear and anguish now. "Hey, Kurosawa. Shouldn't you be _thanking_ me for bringing your notebook to you?"

Again his words are framed as a joking question, but Tomoe is anything but amused. Her eyelids flutter closed as she grimaces, forcing down the lump in her throat. With great difficulty, she mutters, "..ank...y..."

"What was that?"

"Thank... you."

Seeming satisfied with this, Hanamiya gradually loosens his grip on her shoulder. He continues to stare at her, as though waiting for her to relax—but her body remains tense for as long as he is in any proximity. He opens his mouth, perhaps to direct a caustic remark in her direction. Fortunately, the bell rings, cutting him off before he can even begin.

"You should return to your seat," she tells him gravely, turning her gaze to the notebook on her desk. Tomoe doesn't dare look at him again.

"Hm... I'll be seeing you at practice today—or should I say lunch?"

Although she had no intention of venturing to the cafeteria, his question makes clear his intention for her to spend her lunch period in his suffocating presence. Gritting her teeth, Tomoe gives a stiff nod, if only because she wants him to _leave_.

"Let's enjoy class together in the meantime, Kurosawa." After delivering those words—accompanied by that usual warped smile—he starts back toward his desk. It is only once he is gone that she finds that she can breathe again, although the relief is only temporary. Her situation at school has just gotten ten times _worse_.


	4. define your meaning of war

**Author's Note:** Huge thanks to some of the most awesome reviews I've ever received on last chapter, especially VeraVera, Akasuna no Akashi, and Hind-x. Your English is amazing, so don't worry about it! ;A; I was so grateful for everything you guys said. Thank you for all the feedback. I hope you continue to enjoy the story, and this chapter! It feels kind of short in retrospect. I may try to update a little sooner next time but I can't promise anything.

* * *

_define your meaning of war,_

_to me it's what we do when we're bored_

**chapter four**

"A practice match," she echoes, lips slowly contouring to each word as she drawls them out. It is as though Tomoe cannot bring herself to believe that what Hanamiya just said. Maybe more than that, her stomach lurches at the thought of him actually _meaning_ what he just said.

Unfettered by the terror in her eyes, he reiterates, "Yes, a practice match." Strangely, rather than seeming as antagonistic and sadistic as he usually does, Hanamiya appears to be staring off into the distance. The lunch period has just begun, and yet he has seemed absentminded from the onset.

Tomoe stares down at the bento in front of her. Other than lifting the lid off, she has done little more than poke at the rice inside. Being in Hanamiya's presence makes it difficult to work up any sort of appetite.

The only positive side of their situation is the lack of his teammates that usually surround him. For whatever reason, it is only the two of them sitting across from each other at the edge of the cafeteria. And somehow—without really wanting to—Tomoe notices that Hanamiya has yet to touch his food, either.

It probably isn't something she should comment on, she thinks. If not because he tends to find interference annoying, then at least because there is a mutual contempt shared between them. But the words spill out of her mouth before she can filter them.

"Aren't you hungry?" Almost as soon as they are spoken, she turns her gaze away. She berates herself inwardly—she is supposed to be entirely apathetic with him. Why does she sound like she's concerned?

"Are you concerned?" he taunts, as though reading her mind.

Keeping her gaze focused on her own food, she shovels a small mouthful in past her lips to distract him from expecting an answer. Yet while she internally debates what to say, there is only one reasonable response. "...something like that. We've known each other for a long time."

"A long time..." He traces the length of his chin with his index finger.

"Since middle school," she clarifies, as though there's any doubt that he can remember how long it is been since they came into contact.

"You were like gum stuck to my shoe." The analogy seems fitting, considering how condescending he is toward everyone. Ever since she quit the team, he has gone out of his way to lump her in with the rest of the "trash" that he has _broken_.

It seems strange to be having an _almost_ normal conversation with him, especially considering how he's gone out of his way to intimidate her lately. Feeling a little bolder, Tomoe lifts her chin, peering up at him. He seems far less fierce now than he usually does—not that she is willing to allow herself to be lulled into a false sense of security. But for once, she feels as though she can address him more as an equal than someone frightened into submission.

"I've changed that habit," she says, finally tearing her gaze away to watch the undulating crowd of people still clamoring for lunch. "I don't cling to you anymore."

"No," he agrees, to her surprise. Although when she looks over at him, she realizes that he's smirking now. "But you still obey me."

For a moment she closes her eyes, taking those words in. Perhaps it is because some habits are so hard to break. When she was younger, she followed him without question. And while she may have had some moral conflicts with his methods prior to Kiyoshi's injury, she had never resisted following him until then. Even now, she cannot abandon him. And maybe it's just because she's afraid. Or more likely—

A hand suddenly seizes her shoulder and she nearly jumps in surprise, until she realizes that the spot across from her is unoccupied. It takes a moment for her to register that Hanamiya must have gotten up and circled around the table while she was preoccupied with her thoughts.

"Kurosawa," he calls in a whisper just near her ear.

She turns her head to look at him, surprised when she feels his fingers grazing her forehead, brushing across her eyebrows. The hair hanging across the right side of her face is suddenly pushed aside. Her shoulders tense up, and her first instinct is to recoil. But the strength of his grip is enough to coax her into sitting still.

Hanamiya silently traces his finger across the jagged scar running crookedly from just above her right eyebrow, over her eye, to the top of her cheek. Contrary to most people who withdraw with fear on the rare occasion that they might see it, Hanamiya has always been oddly fascinated by it.

"I wonder," he says as though speaking to himself more than to her, "How much the goody two-shoes know about your involvement in his... _accident_."

Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second until she can tamp down her surprise, but it is clearly too late. There is that satisfied smirk on his face again. Tomoe bitterly jerks her face away from him, the layer of hair falling across the marred half of her face. "Lunch is almost over. I should return to the classroom."

"So you _haven't_ told him," Hanamiya surmises, lifting his hand from her shoulder.

She doesn't answer, and instead hastily shoves the lid onto her bento box before marching for the exit. Before she can get very far, Hanamiya steps in front of her. And while she has half a mind to stomp his foot and continue on, she loiters reluctantly.

"That notebook... should be finished by tomorrow."

Tomoe lets out a shuddering breath once he leaves. Even in his absence, the fear grips her. Frustrated at her own helplessness, she grinds her teeth together as she peels herself away from the table.

It is a walk of shame back to the classroom with her head hanging, hair acting as a curtain to hide her face away from the people she passes by. And inwardly she curses herself for being so easily affected by his words. Although at this point, more than _just_ his words is his demand. That notebook...

—

The squeak of sneakers echoes throughout the gym as the players engage each other in a practice match. Although the training period is nearly over, Tomoe remains perched atop a bench on the sidelines, busily scribbling away in the notebook that Hanamiya gave her earlier. There is an occasional pause where she looks up, her eyes critically studying each player and their movements. Contrary to the usual meek and timid atmosphere surrounding her, she seems focused and intense.

Her concentration is only disrupted when she notices a blur in her peripheral vision as someone takes a seat beside her. Normally she is too immersed to pay any heed to the occupancy of the bench, except most players keep a healthy distance from her. And she knows of only one player who does not consider her the "ghost of Kirisaki Daiichi High."

Lifting the lead of the pencil from the page, she peers over at him warily. "I'm not finished."

"You should be rushing," he tells her in an encouraging voice, "Or you won't make it in time to visit Iron Heart at the rehab center."

Taunting her again. Tomoe frowns and returns to her writing. "...I'm not going."

That bit of information manages to stir some interest in him. He cocks his head, the smirk on his face growing. "Oh? You're not going to visit the goody two-shoes? Why? Are you... afraid?" He leans closer to her with every word, challenging her to confirm what he's saying.

His insight into her is impeccable—and she knows that. But Tomoe is equally seasoned with his antics, and capable of pulling a deadpan face through all of it. "I have something else to do."

Hanamiya's gaze lands on the notebook, and for a moment he sits there quietly, watching her write. Perhaps he has grown bored toying with her. Either way, he peels himself off the bench.

With him gone, Tomoe finds it easier to concentrate. She furrows her brows, squinting as she peers back up again, watching the players. They seem more ruthless than she remembers—and better coordinated. Her grip on the pencil tightens as the image of Kiyoshi's goofy face crosses her mind.

The guilt she feels is almost suffocating, but it's not enough to make her pencil stop writing. Faster—she has to write faster and finish. The sooner she is done, the sooner she can close this notebook and never have to see it again.

Soon enough the whistle is blown, and Hanamiya announces it's the end of practice for the day. Relieved that it's finally over, and having wrapped up the task assigned to her, Tomoe snaps the notebook shut. The rest of the team members hurriedly file out into the locker room with Hanamiya lingering behind. That proves itself a good opportunity for her to pass off the notebook and take her leave.

Despite her own reluctance to do so, she quickly approaches him before he can follow after his teammates. "Hanamiya." The name tastes bitter on her tongue.

"Finished?" He assumes as he cocks his head back, holding out his hand toward her expectantly.

She passes it over to him wordlessly. The moment he receives it, he studies her through narrowed eyes before hastily flipping the notebook open and thumbing through the pages. He only gives it a cursory look before shutting it.

"Now you have something else to apologize to Iron Heart for." This time, rather than looking amused he is actually _genuinely_ smiling, as though he is pleased. "See you this weekend at the practice match, Kurosawa." He turns on his heel and heads for the locker room, leaving her alone in the empty gym.

As she is standing there, Tomoe feels something vibrating in her pocket. Startled by it, she fumbles to pull it out, flipping her cell phone open. Her tense expression loosens a bit when she sees that it's a text message from Kiyoshi—a response to her apology about not visiting him today.

_'Since you're apologizing, will you spend twice as long tomorrow to make up for it?'_

"Cheeky," she mumbles under her breath with something of a strangled laugh. Sighing to herself, she types a reply. _'I'll see what I can do.'_ After pressing her thumb against the send button, she stuffs the phone back into her pocket and heads for the bench, reaching for her book bag. Opening it up, she pulls out a small, folded stack of pages.

She smooths them out against her thigh before glancing over them. Her eyes flit over the scribbled characters. A bitter smile crosses her lips as she feels her phone vibrating again in her pocket.

This time, Tomoe ignores it, her eyes focused on the sheaf of papers in her hands. She closes her eyes for a moment before folding the stack shut and tucking it back into the confines of her bag.

"I won't let Hanamiya have his way this time..." she mutters to herself, her grip on her book bag tightening. Suddenly her eyes flutter open as she starts toward the gym doors. This time those pearl gray irises seem filled with some measure of determination.

Every step feels a little lighter than the last, as though a weight has been lifted off of her. The fear lingers, and yet there is a sense of courage that is gradually growing within her. The girl who usually keeps her head bowed as she walks is finally holding her chin just a little higher.

_I still can't ask Teppei-san for his forgiveness, but... if I deliver this to the captain of the other team, then... maybe I won't have to avoid Teppei-san's gaze out of guilt every time he looks at me._


	5. who is the lamb and who is the knife

**Author's Note:** Thank you guys for the reviews and support! I've been sick all week so this is coming a little late. I'm going to be brief because I'm still recovering and have a lot of homework to make up for. But please enjoy this chapter!

Bless you Shiko for your punny review! You know your opinion means a lot to me, and I really appreciate your support. Big thanks to Tomey too for all she's done to help me out.

* * *

_this is a gift, it comes with a price_

_who is the lamb and who is the knife_

**chapter five**

The sun is barely climbing up into the sky when the doors to the rehabilitation center slide open. It feels like it's his first breath of crisp, morning air in quite some time—or maybe it's just his growing anticipation that has sharpened his senses. Either way, Kiyoshi seems to savor it, closing his eyes as he takes a sharp inhale.

"Teppei," an older woman's voice calls from below him. His grandmother stands significantly shorter than him. Her wrinkled face breaks into a smile as she catches his gaze. "Someone is standing over there. I saw her waiting there earlier this morning while you were in therapy."

The surprise registers gradually on his face, eyes rounding slightly as he turns to peer over in the direction that his grandmother pointed to. His own face breaks out into a goofy grin when he recognizes the person standing there, her back turned to them. He hesitates for a moment, though, turning his gaze back toward his grandmother as though silently seeking approval.

"Go on," she ushers him with a knowing look, making a shooing motion.

"Thanks, Grandma," he says with a smile before he starts toward the girl whose hair is suddenly caught in a light breeze that sends it streaming through the air. From this angle, he can see her cheeks have taken on something of a rosy tint. Although it's still summer, it's a cool morning.

His approaching footsteps seem to alert her, and she spins around just as he's about to reach out and surprise her. "Teppei-san!" Tomoe gasps out in surprise, as though not expecting him so soon.

"You waited for me." He smiles at her, planting a heavy hand on the top of her head, ruffling her hair—much to her chagrin.

"O-of course I did," she says, grimacing under his touch. It's not the first time he has reached out toward her. But she definitely does not appreciate him messing up her hair.

"And your wore a dress," Kiyoshi remarks with a hint of amusement in his voice.

This time, Tomoe hastily slaps his hand a way, desperately trying to flatten her hair—and in the process cover her face, which has gone tomato red. "Don't make fun of me," she mutters sourly. "You're the one who asked me to." It is a definite change from the uniform that she usually wears when she visits—although in the past she used to wear simple jeans and shirts when visiting. This is the first time he's ever seen her in a dress. It is a simple white sundress with a taupe cardigan—but the novelty is not lost on Kiyoshi, who remains grinning in delight.

"It suits you," he tells her.

Shocked at his words—Tomoe stands there with her hands still glued to the top of her head, her eyes just staring straight forward. When finally she seems to regain herself, lowering her arms to her side, Kiyoshi reaches toward her. "W-what?" she says in surprise, nearly jumping back.

But while she seems guarded against him, she does allow him to place a hand on either one of her cheeks, cradling her face. "Do you mind?" he says, as though asking permission. Yet he does not wait for an answer—the confusion on her face is enough that he does not think she understands his intentions to begin with, so he leans toward her.

"T-Teppei-san...?" Tomoe can feel her heart hammering furiously in her chest. She returns Kiyoshi's gaze with her eyes opened wide, lips quivering. Is he going to...?

"You're wearing make-up," he says decisively, having neared her enough to tell. The smile on his lip gradually fades as his gaze turns to the jagged layer of bangs covering the right side of her face. In the whole time that he has known her, he has never brought it up—never showed a hint of curiosity. But she can see it in his eyes now. He's starting to wonder.

Tomoe sets her own trembling hands over Kiyoshi's much larger ones, peeling them away from her face. "I told you not to make fun of me." Her voice almost sounds dejected.

"Hm? I wasn't making fun of you?" he says, as though dumbfounded by her accusation.

"Never mind." Exasperated with his unpredictable nature, Tomoe quietly breathes a sigh before peering up at him. "Aren't you going to meet your teammates today?"

"I'm visiting them later. First..." his voice trails off as he holds out his hand, looking at her expectantly.

Confounded, Tomoe tilts her head to the side. "Um...? Was I supposed to bring you something?" Her mind reels as she scrambles through her memories, wondering if she forgot something he had mentioned earlier. Maybe she should have bought him a present? It was his last day of therapy, after all. Her face blanches with a look of realization. "O-oh... I was supposed to bring you a gift—"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says cheerfully as he abruptly reaches over, taking her hand in his. "But let's get going." As though punctuating his sentence, his belly gives a rather noisy growl, in the wake of which Kiyoshi just chuckles awkwardly, scratching at the side of his head with his free hand.

"You didn't eat?" At the very least, it succeeds in drawing her attention away from the fact that their hands are linked.

Ignoring the question, he starts down the sidewalk, pulling her along. "We can eat together now," Kiyoshi tells her, smiling blithely.

It is baffling to Tomoe how he can always be so laid-back and happy about _everything_. She likens him to the sun, always shining no matter the weather. Yet the moment she draws that comparison, her heart sinks—it's like a bitter reminder. _I'm not the kind of person who deserves to have Teppei-san shining on me_. Unconsciously, she squeezes his hand a little tighter.

A thought lingers at the back of her head—today is not just the day that Kiyoshi has completed therapy. It is also the first practice match for Kirisaki Daiichi since she returned to her post as the team's manager. And the thought of how _angry_ Hanamiya will be when he realizes she is not coming does cross her mind.

"Tomoe-san? You look pale. Are you—"

"Where are we going?" she interrupts, trying to change the source of the conversation, supplementing her query with a strained smile.

—

"Kurosawa is—"

"Not coming," Hanamiya declares decisively, leading his team down the sidewalk toward the gym of the opposing team. Despite the impending match, he seems to be relaxed—evidenced by that arrogant smirk on his face. "Her notebook is useless anyways." Although he says that, he's still gripping it firmly in his hand.

One of the taller members strolls up beside Hanamiya, popping his gum with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. "You wasted all that time courting her, and now you're not going to make the little mouse squirm?" he says in a teasing voice, eyes shadowed by the length of his bangs.

"You're testing her," another member assesses from the background.

"Breaking someone is more fun..." his voice trails off as the group stops in front of the twin glass doors leading into the gym. Hanamiya's gaze is suddenly drawn to the trashcan sitting off to the side, and he suddenly tosses the notebook into the bin. "...when you give them hope."

"Then, today..."

"Break them," Hanamiya says with a deceptive smile as he reaches his hand to shove the door open. "Just like we did... with Iron Heart."

—

"Dorayaki... that's what you wanted to eat so bad?" Contrary to the person walking beside her, happily putting away the sweet-filled confectionery, Tomoe stares questioning at the small package in her hand. Kiyoshi purposefully bought one for each of them. And a part of her wonders whether his appetite will be sated by just one.

"You don't want yours?" he asks after swallowing, noticing that she hasn't even opened hers.

Tomoe holds the dorayaki out toward him. "Do you want it?"

There is a moment of hesitation before he takes it. And then he is patting her on the head again—a habit of his. "You're a thoughtful one," he commends, as though it's some kind of compliment. And Tomoe cannot help thinking that there's just a little _something_ off about Kiyoshi.

And his habit of ruffling her hair all the time is a little annoying, though she holds back her comment because watching his happy expression as he bites into the dorayaki is enough that she feels like forgiving him.

"Is that your favorite?"

The question seems to surprise him, and he stops eating just long enough to peer over at her—at which point she realizes some of the filling is stuck to his cheek. Kiyoshi seems oblivious, however, more focused on her question. "You're curious about me?"

"...lean down here."

"Huh?"

"I said lean down," she repeats herself, more forcefully than the first time.

Kiyoshi blinks a few times before leaning toward her, his face just inches from hers. That is definitely not _quite _what she meant. But he is significantly taller than her, and it would have been impossible to reach him otherwise. At this distance, at least...

She pulls a napkin out of her pocket—something she got while Kiyoshi was buying the dorayaki in the first place—and dabs at his cheek. "There."

"I had something on my cheek?" he realizes. Then his face breaks out into another genuine smile. "Thank you, Tomoe-san."

"You don't have to keep leaning toward me like that..."

"Are you shy?" he guesses, straightening himself and taking another bite of the confectionery in his hand. It's almost all gone by now.

"No," Tomoe denies in a level voice, staring up at him with a solemn expression. "I don't really like people being very close."

"Hm... you're an odd one."

"That's ironic, hearing that from you."

"Ironic?"

The way he seems to be perceptive and simultaneously oblivious is rather puzzling. Yet Tomoe just heaves a sigh and starts walking again, expecting him to follow—and to her satisfaction, he does. "Was there somewhere else you wanted to go next?"

Having finished his treat, Kiyoshi suddenly slips his hand into hers. Tomoe flinches at first, peering questioningly up at him. But he seems to ignore her questioning look as he threads their fingers together. "Ahh~maybe we should go for dessert."

"...I think that was dessert."

"Nope. We should buy some snacks." He seems to determine this on a whim, having spotted a convenience store on the corner up ahead.

"Teppei-san... why are you holding my hand?"

His brows arch. "Your hands are cold."

"But you're only holding _one_ of them," she points out matter-of-factly.

"Should I try to hold the other, too?"

"That wasn't what I meant," she says, exasperated.

The expression on her face—which resembles a pout—seems to amuse Kiyoshi, who breaks out into laughter as they pause at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. His eyes soften as he releases her hand to tousle her hair. "You've gotten more expressive since we first met."

"There's never a dull moment around you," she concedes with a nod. Either she has grown tired of trying to stop him from messing with her hair, or she has grown used to it. Either way, Tomoe stands still as he ruffles the ebony tresses. This time, she does not even flinch at his touch.

"Ah, you're smiling."

His remark startles her, and her lips suddenly grow taught, as though smoothing out to hide the fact that they had been curling up just moments prior. "...don't stare so much. The light just changed."

"Ah—it did." As soon as Kiyoshi realizes, he lurches into motion and starts across the street at a purposefully slow pace. "As a reward for coming today, should we share a bag of caramel popcorn?"

Even though she has been trying to suppress it, a small smile rises to her face as she starts to follow after him—at which point she hears a chirping from the phone in her pocket. It sounds like a new text message. She thinks to ignore it, except it vibrates again. Sighing to herself, she yanks it out quickly just to look—

_Two new messages—_the screen flashes at her as she hurriedly opens them. Her stomach lurches as she realizes they're both from Hanamiya. The first one reads, _'You're going to regret not coming today.'_ And the second message..._ 'Can you hear the siren from where you're at?'_

As though on cue, the sound of a blaring siren pierces the air. An ambulance suddenly peels across the street from the opposite direction, barreling across the crosswalk where people have just barely managed to clear a path for it.

In the wake of the panic—Tomoe stands there frozen, her eyes glued to her phone. She does not even realize Kiyoshi is standing on the opposite side of the street, calling out her name. All color has drained from her face. And she receives another message.

_'Are you making that expression again? It's too bad I can't see it this time.'_


	6. we know the price of sin

**Author's Note: **I feel like I should dedicate more time to my A/N to properly convey how grateful I am for all your reviews and supports, but by the time I get to the weekend I'm so wiped out I barely have the energy to post the chapter sobs - Uni is really wearing on me. But really, thank you guys _so_ much. I hope you enjoy this chapter and look forward to the next one!

* * *

_we know the price of sin, the sin of sacrifice_

_i know i'll sin again, but who can save me twice_

**chapter six**

"Tomoe-san?"

The voice calling her sounds so distant. And it's not until she realizes that two large hands are firmly grasping her shoulders—vigorously shaking her—that she finally comes out of her daze. "Teppei-san?" she says with a vague hint of recognition. Her vision has turned bleary—though she thinks that's the product of the haze that's fallen over her. It's definitely not tears, she's certain.

"Did something happen?" he guesses, glancing down at the cellphone—which is contained in a fist at her side.

Her throat feels strangely dry, and it proves a struggle to swallow. Nervously, she wets her lips before speaking. "There's... accidents every day in Tokyo, right...? It's not unusual... it's a coincidence."

"Coincidence?" His forehead creases with mounting concern.

Although Kiyoshi cannot follow her train of thought, Tomoe is slowly piecing together the cryptic message that Hanamiya delivered. Someone was definitely injured at the other school, and it _must_ be one of their opposition. But how? She specifically copied all of her notes down so that she could tip off the other team so they could avoid—

Suddenly, her face goes pale as the realization hits her. "He never trusted me... he knew..."

"Tomoe-san?"

The sound of him calling out to her again startles Tomoe back to reality, and she lifts her gaze. As soon as Kiyoshi's worried face enters her sight, she feels the guilt prick her like a needle. She quickly averts her eyes. "Sorry, there is somewhere I have to go."

"What happened?" Still worried, he keeps a firm grip on her shoulders, waiting for her to divulge something—anything.

His queries are met with silence, however, as Tomoe lifts a hand and grabs his wrist, coaxing him to release her. "I'll contact you later," she promises, as though this is some kind of consolation for parting abruptly and without explanation. There is scarcely an opportunity to contest her decision, because she leaves as soon as she has said that to him.

At first it is just a quick, brisk pace, and then she breaks into a full out run, barreling through the crowd. The wind blows right into her face, enough that she has to tamp down the bangs over her eye with a hand, holding it there so that no one _sees_ the right half of her face.

Everything around her is a blur of dreary gray, at least until she makes it a few blocks over. It is only through the GPS on her phone that she manages to find her way. When she rounds a corner, the school comes into her vision. And she can already see the Kirisaki Daiichi team filing out of the front gates.

Despite being out of breath and sweating profusely, she lurches right back into motion, darting across the empty street. The moment she lays eyes on Hanamiya, tailing after the rest of his gang, her stomach knots up. She puts on the brakes as she gets closer, screeching to a halt just beside him—winded and flustered.

"You made it in record time," he says, as though complimenting her. "You must have been close."

As soon as she manages to catch her breath, Tomoe straightens herself, glaring daggers up at him with her hands hanging in fists at her side.

"You must have been with the Iron Heart," he surmises, his scrutinizing gaze sweeping over her figure. "No matter how much you dress it up, _trash_ is still trash." Although he denigrates her, all traces of amusement have disappeared from his face. If anything, he looks almost emotionless—a rare expression for Hanamiya, whose countenance usually represents his condescending outlook on others.

"What happened?" she demands in a voice just above a whisper. Both of her arms are trembling at her sides—with anger, with frustration.

He cocks his head back, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. "You're so curious for someone who was content to skip out on the match to go out on a date. How was it, by the way? Does the Iron Heart not mind his girlfriend lending her tactical knowledge to the team that destroyed his knee? Or should I say... does he not mind dating the person responsible for that injury in the first place?"

Although she blanches, those words do not carry as much of an impact as Hanamiya is hoping. Tomoe deflects them with a glare. "I didn't make that call," she says, as though denying any responsibility. "You're the one who..."

"So you haven't even told him," Hanamiya deduces with a chortle. Once the laughter dies down abruptly, a smirk is left behind. And he suddenly leans in toward her face, his lips just beside her ear. "It's funny, isn't it? You go around with this holier-than-thou attitude, but you're actually just a hypocrite. That's _lower_ than trash, Kurosawa."

Her lips quiver. The words won't come out—they're stuck in the back of her throat. She wants to deny all of it, but she's forced to swallow all of his accusations with the gradual realization that there _is_ some kernel of truth to them.

Once he realizes she has no more energy to mount a defensive response, he leans back. Then, as though playing innocent, he plasters a manic smile on his face and reaches over to pat her on the head. "I'm the only one who knows who you _really_ are, Kurosawa. And I'm the only one who has stayed beside you. Isn't that right?"

Those words are like poison, and yet Tomoe finds herself nodding her head. As much as she wants to rationalize some reaosn why he is wrong, her mind is blank. It's easier to accept what he is saying at face value.

"Good." Deeming the matter settled, he lifts his hand away and turns on his heel. There is no further exchange between them—Hanamiya offers her no parting words. Perhaps because they need not share any, or perhaps because he's satisfied thinking he has _broken_ his "toy." At the very least, Tomoe is aware that he sees her as nothing remotely equal to him.

Left behind, she watches his back as he rejoins his teammates and they disappear down the sidewalk. Abandoned, she loiters there for a few moments. There is a numbness inside of her. She wants to be able to cry, to show some kind of emotion—because she feels so utterly crushed. But then she starts wondering if she even deserves to be able to—

_**Ding!**_

The sound of her ringtone breaks through the air as she feels the vibration in her pocket. Fishing it out, she glances at the screen before tapping her thumb against the talk button. "Teppei-san," she greets in a monotone voice.

_"Is everything okay?"_

"... Did you forgive me?"

There is a moment of silence—perhaps he's grappling with the direction of the conversation, trying to determine what exactly she is referring to. And when he seems to understand what she is asking, he says without hesitation, _"Yes."_

In any other circumstance, those words would have brought her relief—would have made her heart soar. But in the wake of the conversation she just had with Hanamiya, it just intensifies the guilt that is already choking her. "Don't... forgive me," she measures out the words slowly, but her voice still cracks as she speaks.

_"Where are you?"_

"Don't you have to meet with your friends now? I—"

_"Tomoe-san. Where are you?"_

—

It feels awkward to be loitering outside the front gates to a school that she does not even attend. Tomoe breathes a sigh as she wrings her hands nervously. Just because Kiyoshi asked didn't mean she had to answer him. What was she thinking? Hanamiya already said it clearly.

"Tomoe-san," a voice calls from behind her.

She spins around—her hair fluttering through the air. The moment she sees Kiyoshi with that usual laidback smile on his face, she can feel the tears pricking at her eyes. At first, she is sure that _must_ be impossible. Because she does _not_ cry.

"Tomoe-san...?"

But the tears have already spilled over and are running down her cheeks. It takes every ounce of willpower to keep from breaking into outright sobs. Frustrated with herself, she quickly presses her hands over her face. "Sorry," she says in a strangled voice, "I.. don't know why I'm crying."

The sound of approaching footsteps echo in her ears, followed by warm fingers caressing her wrists, coaxing her to reveal her face to him. And the moment she does, she sees those chocolate brown irises just a few inches away. And he's still _smiling._

"Tomoe-san, do you mind if I kiss you?" He does not even sound _serious_ when he asks. He says it in the same tone of voice as though he was merely asking about the weather. It's too abrupt, too easygoing.

"H-huh...?"

Before she can realize what is happening, those large hands cup her cheeks and she feels something soft brushing against her lips. It lasts only a few precious seconds—and she can feel her cheeks heating in the interim. His lashes flutter as he pulls back, giving her a grin.

"You stopped crying."

"You didn't just do that to stop my crying?" she asks, incredulous.

He chuckles and pats her on the head before dropping his hands back to his sides. "Nope, that's not my reason. You said I shouldn't forgive you, Tomoe-san, but... I forgave you a long time ago."

"Why?"

His shoulders shrug as he says, "Because I like you." The way he says it so unabashedly, without any reservation—it leaves her quizzical. A mix of happiness, confusion, and—well, she's not even sure what else to feel. The emotions hit her like a tidal wave and leave her dizzy.

"H-how can you say something like that all of a sudden? It's embarrassing..." She averts her eyes—somewhat ashamed that she cannot be quite as open herself. There is so much that she wants to tell him, and yet now that her brain is thoroughly _scrambled_ thanks to him, it's hard to put the words together in a coherent sentence.

"Hm, it just came out," he declares, as though not bothering to put any forethought into how reckless his words and actions can be. It's just like Kiyoshi, though.

Yet for how happy the moment is, she can feel the smile draining off of her face as she is reminded of the guilt—Hanamiya's earlier words echoing through the halls of her mind. Tomoe bites down on her bottom lip, her hands balling into fists at her side. "Teppei-san," she says in a shaky voice, "I..." Her voice trails off the moment she catches him looking at her.

He is still wearing that smile—the smile that she remembers him wearing back during that game. She watched him on the court. It was _because_ she watched him so closely that things ended the way they did. But he wasn't smiling when she went in to apologize to him at the hospital.

It is the right thing to do to tell him the truth this time, she realizes. She _has_ to. Whether she does it now or latter, he will find out eventually. The longer she drags it out, the worse it will be.

"What is it, Tomoe-san?" Kiyoshi prompts, suddenly looking concerned since she has drawn it out so long.

She hesitates—is it really the right thing to do, after all? All she wants is for him to _smile_. If she tells him now, he'll stop smiling again, won't he? Then what is she supposed to do? Lying to someone to maintain their happiness is the ultimate betrayal. Or is it better if he is unaware, as long as he is happy? This is not so black and white that she can easily decide which one is better.

Suffocating underneath the guilt and Kiyoshi's expectant gaze, she snaps her eyes shut. Taking a sharp inhale, she steadies herself before finally saying, "Do you... really like me, Teppei-san?"

He gives a slow nod. "Mm, I do."

"What if... I wasn't honest. What if... the one who really injured your knee... was me?"

"You weren't out on the court," he starts to argue.

"No—no, and neither was Hanamiya at the time. That's why... I was watching you. I noticed you grimacing, and I could see that you were having trouble with your knee." She keeps her eyes shut the whole time she is saying this, because she does not want to see his expression. If she does, she knows it will make her hesitate. "Hanamiya was complaining about not being let off the bench, and... it was the fourth quarter, we were really far behind."

"What are you...?"

"I told him. I told Hanamiya about your knee being weak."

Once the words have been spoken, there is no turning back. And a part of her initially feels relieved once it has been said. Yet she holds her breath as she opens her eyes. It takes a moment for her to adjust her vision on his face—and when she does, she feels the true weight of what she has just said.

That smile—it's really gone, after all. And his eyes have gone wide with surprise. The way he is looking at her... it's... _changed_. She knows that expression that he is making, because she has worn it before.

The look of betrayal.


	7. true love is a fairy tale

**Author's Note:** You guys are _amazing_, seriously. I can't believe how many amazing reviews everyone left after the last chapter. So I bring you good news and bad news. The bad news is that the next update will most likely be late. The good news is, when I _do_ update, I'll be updating again faster than I have before. So basically, I probably won't be updating next Saturday. Instead, I'll be updating shortly before the Friday after that and giving you three updates through my spring break. A day or so spaced out between each chapter. Hopefully that makes sense.

Anyways, that said, thank you guys so, so much. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story. Bless you all for being such amazing readers. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

_dreaming comes so easily, 'cause it's all that i've known  
true love is a fairy tale, i'm damaged, so how would i know_

**chapter seven**

_"Tomo-chan, hurry. Go in there and stay there. Don't come out, okay?"_

_ A warm hand, that is pressed gently against her lower back, guides her into the confines of a small closet, and she is hastily tucked between the dresser and the folded blankets therein. She gets only a fleeting glimpse of her mother's face—smiling at her—and a hand caressing her cheek._

_ "Be a good girl," her mother tells her._

_ Two gray irises stare questioningly back at the woman. Why is this happening again? Her mouth feels dry—her tongue like sandpaper. It makes it difficult to swallow, let alone to speak. And her mother doesn't want to hear what she has to say, anyways. She's just expected to nod obediently. So she does._

_ "No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, don't come out, okay?"_

_ Those words stir a panic within the small child, and she snatches her mother's wrist just as the older woman is about to draw away and nudge the closet door shut. "Mommy, let's hide together," she offers._

_ "Tomoe!" a bellowing voice echoes within the house as the front door bursts open, followed shortly by angry, resounding footsteps._

_ All color drains from the older woman's face as she shoves the little girl away. "Don't come out," she hisses again with more urgency in her voice than any time before. She quickly draws the door shut before Tomoe can protest._

—

The sound of something slamming against the top of her desk—and the subsequent vibration that rings in her ears—rouses her from her sleep. Startled awake, Tomoe sits upright, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Kurosawa," a familiar voice croons.

She does not have to look to know who has come to visit her. "Hanamiya, why are you here?" The exhaustion is evident in her voice—as though she has no energy to deal with his usual antics. Perhaps she had expected his persistence to wane once he thought she was "broken," but either he has determined she has some other worth, or he is not fully convinced that he's crushed her thoroughly enough yet.

"I missed you at lunch."

His two-faced demeanor, switching between menacing to so sickeningly sweet just makes her want to vomit. She frowns. "Since I wasn't hungry, I didn't go to the cafeteria. I'll be at practice tonight. That's enough, isn't it?" Where Hanamiya will play at being innocent in front of other people, Tomoe has no such reservations.

"You should eat," he continues, ignoring her clear attempt at shaking him off. Hanamiya sets down a packaged sandwich and a juice box in front of her. Then he takes the seat from the desk in front of her, spins it around, and plops down on it. Placing his elbows against the surface of her desk, he holds his face in his hands, watching her intently—as though he honestly expects her to eat in front of him.

"I said I wasn't hungry." She is lying about that, of course. She can feel the ache of hunger in her belly, but she's not about to accept something from him as though it's some show of kindness on his part. It's creepy enough that he would go out of his way to come see her, and to offer food besides? That is not within Hanamiya's nature. Something is _off_.

"I won't leave until you _eat_."

She sighs impatiently. If that's what it will take for him to leave, it's a rather small concession, she has to admit. So she peels the packaging off the sandwich and hastily bites into it. It actually tastes very good—although she's not particularly surprised about that. They have been with each other for years. For as uncaring and negligent as Hanamiya is, it would be odd if he didn't at least know her taste.

Hanamiya seems at least a little satisfied to see that she is eating now. When she glimpsed at his face moments prior, he had been frowning—and now he's wearing his trademark smirk once again.

"You already ate?" she guesses, peering at the clock to see that there is not much time left. She must have napped for at least fifteen minutes.

Ignoring her question, he suddenly asks, "Is it the Iron Heart?"

Her brows lift in surprise as her head swivels, gaze flitting back to his face. "Huh?"

He drops one hand away from his face to point toward her. The smirk has disappeared again, and now he just looks bored. "That expression you keep making. Are you making it because of the Iron Heart?"

"What kind of expression am I making?"

For a moment his lips purse, as though he does not wish to elucidate. But perhaps he wants to know the answer bad enough, because he explains, "The ugly expression where you have wrinkles here," he reaches his hand up and pokes her forehead just between her brows, "And you look like you want to cry."

"You seem to like that expression," she spits back bitterly, taking a drink from the juice box to wash down the first half of the sandwich that she has already eaten.

Hanamiya clicks his tongue. "You miss the point. I only like it if I'm the reason you're making that expression. It's boring if you're making it because of someone else."

"You're really twisted." Tomoe averts her gaze from him, trying to finish the sandwich quickly. The longer she looks at him, she starts to lose her appetite bit by bit. And there's not much time left. At least if she can sate her appetite for now, she can last the rest of the school day.

Those words elicit a grin as he cocks his head to the side, face cradled in both hands one again. "You're pretty twisted yourself, Kurosawa. Are you trying to change the subject now, because I was right? It is the Iron Heart, isn't it?"

"You should be happy that it is. You got what you wanted, right? We're not connected to each other anymore." Admitting it out loud is a little harder than she had imagined. Pain pricks at her chest again. It has been more than week since she confessed the truth to Kiyoshi. At that time, the two parted ways without any further exchange—perhaps he was too shocked to say anything.

And since then, there has been no exchange of text messages, either. She has attempted. By attempted, that is, she has typed out many apologies but never had the courage to actually send any one of them. By and large, Tomoe has resigned herself to the fact that she is once again _alone_. That is, aside from the jerk that is seated in front of her.

"Enough chatting for now," Hanamiya says, just before the bell rings. He stands up suddenly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "See you at practice, Kurosawa."

Mystified, Tomoe stares after him as he trudges toward his desk, bumping past a group of girls that are just coming back into the classroom. They scatter as he passes, petrified by his presence. Even though he tries to hide his demeanor, the school doesn't exactly have the best impression of him. At least not beyond the basketball team, which seems to revere—or otherwise respectfully fear—him.

But more than that, she is rather disturbed by the fact that this is by far the most... pleasant interaction they've had in over a year now. It strikes her as strange. She is usually so seized with fear around him that she just bends to everything he says. But with the loss of Kiyoshi, she feels too empty to really concern herself with the consequence of saying the "wrong" thing to Hanamiya.

Why did he come, anyways? Just to ask about Kiyoshi? What was the food for, then? Her head hurts just thinking about it. It's too out of character for Hanamiya. It's easy for her to understand him when he's cruel and condescending.

Crumpling the leftover wrapper and empty juice box in either hand, she scuttles over to the trash can in the back and disposes of them before returning to her seat, just as the teacher enters the classroom. Once the lesson resumes, she does not have the time to worry about what Hanamiya's intentions are.

Afternoon passes quickly, and soon enough the evening bell rings, signifying the end of the school day. All of the students clamor out of the classroom, chattering amongst one another. Tomoe lingers behind in the wake of it all, purposefully dragging. She does not feel particularly enthusiastic about spending the next hour in the gym. Especially considering how unsavory all the members of her school's basketball team are.

Just as she has finished tucking everything safely into her book bag, she feels her cellphone vibrate in her pocket. No doubt Hanamiya urging her to make haste—he's probably noticed that she's purposefully slow about making her way over to the gym every day.

But when she looks at her phone, the look of exasperation on her face is quickly replaced by shock. Tomoe's eyes go wide as she stares at her screen—the new text message isn't from Hanamiya. It's from...

"Teppei-san?" she whispers in disbelief.

Her heart is suddenly beating fast. A part of her feels too scared to open the message and see what he sent. But another part of her is desperate to see his words again. Even if they're hateful, even if they're resentful. Whatever he has to say—she wants to see it. She wants to know.

With a trembling finger, she presses down on the button on her phone that opens the message. And contrary to her worst fear and her pessimistic expectations, it's actually a short, simple message.

_'I want to meet with you.'_

As much as she tries to stifle her excitement to read that, she feels like screaming in delight. It's strange—because she's not the type of person that is usually very emotionally expressive. So why does she feel so happy at such a short, simple message?

Without a moment of hesitation, she types back, _'When? Where?'_

The response comes back sooner than she even expects. _'The bakery we visited last weekend. I'll be waiting there.'_

Hastily, Tomoe stuffs her phone back into the pocket of her skirt before lifting her bag and darting out into the hallway. She races to the front entrance, dropping her bag to the side as she fishes her shoes out from her locker, dropping the two worn brown loafers onto the ground. After taking off her inside shoes and shoving them back inside the locker, she slips on her loafers.

Just as she is about to start in a dead run out toward the front gate of the school, a shadow falls over her. "You're slow," Hanamiya comments in a chiding voice. "Let's go, Kurosawa."

She hesitates to look at him in the eye. "Something came up. I have to go somewhere," she says quickly, thankful that her words do not manage to stumble over each other when she hastily blurts them out.

"Something came up?" he echoes back with a look of skepticism.

For now, she ignores his question and brushes past him. Whatever consequences come later, she will deal with them. Right now, she just wants to see Kiyoshi. So she speeds out the gate and manages to find a taxi somewhere along the way.

It is an antsy ride to the bakery, and she nearly forgets to fork over the money necessary for the trip when they arrive at their destination. Just as she is about to reach for the door handle to the bakery, she sees herself reflected in the glass—face flushed and hair tousled by the wind. As much as she wants to smooth out her appearance, her desperation to see Kiyoshi is strong enough for her to disregard that.

Yet just as she reaches to open the door, she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket again. Although she wants to burst in without worrying about her phone, she suspects it may be a call from Kiyoshi. But when she glances at the screen, she quickly realizes she is wrong.

Dropping her hand from the knob of the door, she reluctantly answers the call. "Hanamiya?"

_"Come back. Now."_

"I'll be back soon," she promises, anxious to end the call.

"Tomoe-san?" A voice calls from behind her.

_"Kurosawa, if you don't—"_

She hangs up on him before he can finish the sentence. "Teppei-san," she greets as she turns around to face him.

The first thing she sees is Kiyoshi stuffing his face—with dorayaki, no less. Since he's eating, she cannot tell if he's smiling—but at the very least, his expression is not contorted like she remembers it being the last time they met.

"Was that Hanamiya?" he asks. His voice sounds neither harsh nor as gentle as she remembers. It's more monotone—indifferent. And that bothers her more than if it had been hateful.

Tomoe swallows hard. Although she does not want to, she answers him honestly. "Yes, it was. But that's not important... why did you want to see me?" It seems a little presumptuous to ask outright, but she wants to know—_needs_ to know.

He finishes the last of his dorayaki before forming any kind of response. The expression on his face is more somber than she thinks she has ever seen from him before. "I heard that you rejoined the Kirisaki Daiichi basketball team as manager."

After coming this far, there is no purpose in lying to him. "I... did."

"Why? Hanamiya... isn't threatening you, is he?"

Hastily, she shakes her head.

"Then... are you friends?"

"No. I don't think either of us think of each other as friends... although we have known each other for a long time."

Her answers seem to puzzle him. "Then why did you rejoin?"

"Because..." she hesitates, unsure how to answer. "I can't completely abandon Hanamiya."


	8. so darkness i became

**Author's Note:** Pleasantly surprised to announce I managed to finish this so the update isn't delayed (obviously). But I'm really so thankful to you guys so over my Spring Break I'm going to try to update more than usual. Hopefully another chapter by Monday or Tuesday. ;3 Thank you guys again for the amazing reviews. There were a few questions I wanted to address, too.

**About Changing the Rating** - I assume this was in regards to the story becoming more mature and going from T to M? In which case no, this story will stay T.

**About the Love Triangle -** The current cover is Hanamiya but that will change as of chapter ten and it will be Kiyoshi. This love triangle will stay a love triangle for a while. But _yes_ she does end up with one of them. Of course I won't be saying which one. ;3

On to the flashbacks! (That I know some people really wanted.) Enjoy!

* * *

_i was in the darkness,_

_so darkness i became_

**chapter eight**

_"Hey, look at Kurosawa. She's still wearing the winter uniform. I told you she was a freak." The moment she enters the classroom, Tomoe overhears the whispers of her classmates, their eyes following her._

_ "No kidding. She always wears long sleeves," another girl responds, elbowing her friend in the side and pointing toward Tomoe's covered arms to demonstrate her point. "Don't you think that's kind of suspicious?"_

_ While they busy themselves with positing the possibilities for her eccentric nature, Tomoe quietly settles into her seat. As though paranoid, she smooths her bangs over her right eye—just to be certain that her scar is covered. It is a habit of hers to distract herself, to avoid confrontation with the people who want to make assumptions about her._

_ But while she is busy with that, she does not hear the sound of approaching footsteps, nor does she take notice of the shadow that falls over her when the person stops and waits expectantly in front of her desk. At least not until she perceives the sound of said person clearing their throat._

_ Her head jerks slightly as she realizes that it is the class president. "Yeah?" she answers him with a look of discomfort._

_ The man stares pointedly at her arms before saying, "Everyone is supposed to be in their spring uniform today. I specifically approached you about this yesterday, Kurosawa-san." There is a hint of impatience in his voice._

_ This seems rather nitpicky, but it is not the first time that she has been approached for defying either the dresscode or some other abritrary matter. She would feel more at ease if he would just ignore her. Sinking down into her seat, she mumbles, "Well, at least I'm wearing _a_ uniform..."_ _That is really the best defense she can muster for herself, because the truth—the truth is not something she can say so easily._

_ "Kurosawa—"_

_ Just as the class president's reprimanding voice is about to spout some reproachful nonsense, the door to the classroom abruptly bursts open. Heavy, resounding footsteps fill the air and don't stop until they're earsplittingly loud. That's probably just Tomoe's one-sided impression, but the person's presence is so oppressive that she recognizes a change in the atmosphere of the entire class when he enters._

_ She casts a gaze over at him, somewhat hesitantly. Hanamiya is his name—she knows because he is seated in front of her._

_ "Class President, good morning," he remarks in a mocking, cheerful voice. "I didn't even _see_ you there."_

_ That's clearly a lie—supported by the fact that Hanamiya has crushed the other boy's foot under his own. And it's clear that he's putting pressure on it, because the class president is visibly grimacing, biting his lip to keep from crying out._

_ "Did you need something from Kurosawa?" Hanamiya suddenly asks, his gaze flitting over to the girl seated just beside where he is standing._

_ She jerks upright, surprised to hear him say her name. The two have scarcely exchanged a few words to each other. Since they're in the same class, she realizes it only makes sense that he would know her name. Especially with all the gossip._

_ The class president stammers back, "K-Kurosawa is still wearing her winter uniform—"_

_ "Class is about ready to start. Shouldn't you be in your seat setting a good example?"_

_ His words brook no dissent, and the class president—whose foot is still being crushed—seems to be struggling just to form a coherent sentence. "I... um... never mind then." He clenches his jaw, and the moment Hanamiya lifts his foot, the class president flees back to his seat—though not before letting out a distinct, displeased grunt._

_ Hanamiya clicks his tongue, muttering something about trash hanging around—though not loud enough for anyone other than Tomoe to hear. Once the class president is gone, however, he plops himself down in the seat in front of her._

_ "Thanks," she whispers quietly._

_ He doesn't turn around to look at her, and instead shrugs his shoulder. "I was just dealing with some garbage that was standing in the way of my seat."_

_ They have spent the better part of their second year in middle school sitting next to each other. At least, for as long as she's been at this school—she _did_ transfer halfway through the year after all._

_ Either way, whether their seating arrangement is coincidence or not, she is not sure—but he's the only person among her classmates that treats her like a regular human being. Although that may be a stretch of the imagination itself. Hanamiya tends to treat everyone like _trash_ if they're not in some way entertaining or useful to him. He has a peculiar view of the world—but at least it's not one that paints her as a freakshow._

_ "Kurosawa."_

_ Startled by the sound of her name being called, she peers up. It's even more surprising when she realizes that Hanamiya has turned around—straddling the back of his chair so he can face her._

_ "I heard... you were looking to join an after school club." A smirk slowly lifts onto his lips as he gauges her reaction—as though it has some impact on what he's about to follow up with._

_ Ignorant of his intentions, she merely gives a nod. "Yeah... but most of the clubs said no. They didn't want to take anyone new halfway through the school year. It's fine, though... this school doesn't have a chess club, anyways."_

_ His fingers drum against the top of her desk. There is a look of disinterest on his face initially, at least until she brings up the mention of chess. Then suddenly his interest has been piqued. "Chess?"_

_ "Uh... I used to play... in primary school, so—"_

_ "Hm." He looks bored again. It makes Tomoe nervous—she wants him to be interested, to have fun talking to her. That is a strange thought, she realizes, for she has grown accustomed to being disliked, to the negative reactions that follow her every exchange with people. But Hanamiya is... different. _

_ Perhaps it is because he is the first person to approach her, to treat her normally. Regardless of the reasons, he has stirred something within her—because the more he interacts with her, the less lonely she feels. It could have been anyone, she realizes, it doesn't matter that it's Hanamiya particularly. But being noticed, being approached. If there is a name she can place to the feeling, _maybe_ it could be called happiness._

_ "W.. what club are you in, Hanamiya?"_

_ "Basketball." He does not say it with any hint of passion on his face. It's like a word born of a wistful sigh—as though he plays because there is nothing else to do. At least that is her initial impression, until his face suddenly seems to light up. "I've played it ever since I was a kid. I _really_ love basketball—the teamwork, the camaraderie—everything."_

_ "R-Really?" she says, her tone hitching with excitement—that she's finally found something she can talk to him about._

_ His face suddenly contorts in amusement as he clicks his tongue, "As if I'd say that, moooron. You really believe something that naive?"_

_ She blanches, surprised at his sudden change in demeanor. "Oh... I—"_

_ He cocks his head at her. "Hm, you actually smiled for a minute there."_

_ Shocked at that remark, she sits there with her mouth agape until she regains her senses, at which point she averts her eyes—cheeks flushing a dark red. Tomoe feels mortified to have bought into his act so easily. She thinks bitterly to herself that Hanamiya is so incredibly two-faced, it's impossible to trust him. Ironic since it's obvious that she already does._

_ "Don't act as upset as that trash," he tells her, pointing a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of class president. "Here." Hanamiya suddenly thrusts a sheet of paper onto her desk before standing abruptly and adjusting himself properly in his seat, just as the bell rings._

_ Surprised, she glances down at the paper. Her eyes widen with the realization that it's an application form to be manager of the basketball team. This is his proposed solution to her dilemma? She peers up at him, but all she is met with is the back of his head._

—

_ **DIE! Cheater! Get off the basketball team!**_

_Those words glare back at her, written in permanent marker and scrawled across the desk in front of hers. Startled by them, Tomoe casts a quick, suspicious gaze around the classroom, as though she might still spot the culprit. But since it is still so early in the morning, most people still have yet to wander in—and the rest seem to be clustered in small groups, busily chatting amongst themselves. Only the class president in the front row seems to be by himself, thumbing through a text book._

_ Setting her bookbag aside, Tomoe summons the courage and approaches him. But even as her shadow falls across him, he does not bother to look up at her. Either because he is too immersed in what he is doing, or he is selectively choosing to ignore her._

_ "Um, excuse me," she voices finally, working up the nerve._

_ He peers up at her through those thick-rimmed spectacles. "Do you need something?" His gaze is almost immediately drawn to the fact that she's _still_ wearing her winter uniform, even though he just scolded her days before. "Should you be talking to me if you're going to wear that?"_

_ "You can lecture me," she says quickly. "But first... did you happen to see the person that wrote that on Hanamiya-san's desk?"_

_ "I did," he acknowledges without batting an eyelash._

_ "Th-then shouldn't you report them?"_

_ The book that he was reading suddenly snaps shut, and he folds his hands across it. "Kurosawa," he says in a harsh voice, staring up at her with a vacant expression. "Every action has a consequence. Did you know that Hanamiya injured the Captain of the basketball team's little brother?"_

_ "It must have been an accident," she assures without a shadow of a doubt in her mind. Granted that Hanamiya has been two-faced even in front of her, it's a bit much to think he would intentionally hurt someone._

_ "You don't know anything about Hanamiya. It wasn't an accident."_

_ "Y-you weren't even there," Tomoe argues, her hands balling into fists. This is probably the most heated she has ever been—which is why the class president's eyes even seem to go wide with surprise at how vehemently she is defending Hanamiya._

_ Frowning, he peels his gaze away from her and flips his book back open, returning to the appropriately marked page to continue his reading. "You can say whatever you want in his defense, Kurosawa. I'm not getting involved with it."_

_ "You have a really selective sense of justice," she chides him in a hiss. The fire of anger has swelled so in her chest that she actually does not even stop to give a second thought to the repercussions of her blowing off steam at him. Tomoe is absolutely livid—especially thinking about how Hanamiya defended her before, even if he claimed it wasn't for her benefit. Still, regardless of whatever anyone else says, she is certain—he's not the terrible person they think he is. He's not a monster._

_ Realizing that she is not going to get anywhere verbally berating the class president, she darts out of the classroom and heads for the nearest bathroom. Gathering paper towels in her hands, she hastily wets them before coming back to the classroom._

_ Everyone seems to have stopped their banter to peer over at her—curious as to what she hopes to accomplish. But while all of them watch, no one volunteers to help. Perhaps they think she is wasting her time, or maybe they feel the same as the class president about Hanamiya._

_ Regardless, Tomoe's determination starts to pay off. She glances at the clock occasionally as she is furiously scrubbing at the top of his desk. But while she is making some progress, there is only a few minutes left until the bell. Hanamiya will be walking in any minute._

_ Frustrated, she finally throws the last ink-covered paper towel into the trash before returning to survey her progress. Although it is largely faded now, there is some trace of the words that had been scribbled. He may still notice it._

_ Tomoe clenches her jaw and finally settles on swapping desks altogether. While the others look on, she struggles to rearrange them—moving her desk to his position and yanking his into the spot hers used to be. The class president has finally looked up from his book, and is actively giving her a disapproving look as he watches her. But she just ignores him this time._

_ Just as she is pushing his chair into his desk—or rather hers—Hanamiya suddenly walks into the room. She barely notices him in time, and flies into her seat, quickly fishing a few notebooks out of her bag to spread across her desk so he will not notice the any of the ink residue left behind._

_ He does seem a little suspicious, though. Probably because he saw her messing with his chair. Tomoe catches him peering down at her as he passes, though he does not say anything to her. Instead he just settles into his chair, right before the bell rings._

—

_ When lunch time rolls around, Tomoe waits until Hanamiya has safely left the classroom before she puts away her notebooks and textbook. Then she pulls out her lunchbox and quietly starts eating by herself. It is the routine that she has practiced for so long, but the food tastes a little better this time. And her surroundings seem to have a little more color._

_ "Kurosawa," a familiar voice addresses her._

_ She does not have to look up to know that it is the class president. This time she is the one ignoring him as she stuff mouthful after mouthful of rice past her lips._

_ "The seniors may end up getting mad at you instead," he warns. "If that happens, you will end up on the receiving end instead of Hanamiya. You guys aren't that close of friends that you should stick your neck out for him. You should listen to my advice."_

_ This time, she is the one with an empty expression peering up at him—firmly setting her chopsticks aside. "Hanamiya-san is the one who stuck up for me when I was on the receiving end of _your_ lecture." Her eyes narrow. "You just don't like him, so you want to see him suffer."_

_ "I don't like him," he agrees. "But I don't have any problems with you personally, I was just enforcing the rules. Anyway, it's up to you whether you want to heed what I said or not. But you'll be the one who regrets it in the end if you don't."_

_ "I won't regret it," Tomoe says firmly without any hesitation. At this point, she seems to consider the conversation over, and turns back to her food, picking her chopsticks right back up._

_ Exasperated, the class president heaves a sigh before shuffling toward the rear door of the classroom. Just as he is opening it, he is mildly surprised to find Hanamiya standing on the other side. He clicks his tongue and whispers under his breath, "Good job on manipulating a naive girl into protecting you."_

_ A knowing smirk surfaces on the taller man's face as he purposefully stomps his foot on the class president's. "Little piece of advice," Hanamiya says in a sugary sweet voice. "Stay away from Kurosawa. Unless you want to be broken, too."_

_ "You're sick," the man hisses back through the pain._

_ Hanamiya gradually eases the pressure off the other man's foot, until he is able to escape—hurrying down the hallway without looking back. For a moment, Hanamiya stares after him, still wearing an eerie smile. Until he turns his gaze back to the classroom, where Tomoe has her back turned and is gradually consuming what is left of her lunch._

_ "What an idiot," Hanamiya says with a chortle of laughter, pressing a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise so she doesn't notice—although she probably wouldn't anyways, given the noisy chattering inside of the classroom. "I found something else interesting to break."_


	9. hands full of fallen stars

**Author's Note:** The early update as promised! I hope you enjoy, and thank you guys _so much_ for your reviews. You don't know just how much I appreciate them. If I can I'd like to update earlier more in the future. While I can't make any promises, I'll definitely try!

* * *

_there's no more wind to be found in the sails,_

_hands full of fallen stars and comet tails_

**chapter nine**

"Can you tell me why?"

Saying that she simply cannot abandon Hanamiya does leave a lot of room for interpretation, because it is rather ambiguous, Tomoe realizes. But when Kiyoshi prompts her to elaborate, she shifts her gaze to the ground, unconsciously reaching a hand up to check the bangs hanging over the right side of her face.

After a moment of silence—in which she desperately grapples with how to express herself properly in a few succinct words, Tomoe finally says, "Because... he was the first person to _see_ me." She means that both literally and metaphorically—in respect to the former, because he was the first person outside of her family to see the scar. As for the latter, he was also the first person to ever recognize her.

Hearing that, Kiyoshi seems to realize the profound meaning behind her words. "I understand," he mumbles with a gentle smile. Perhaps understanding and agreeing with it are two very different things—because his expression sobers only a split second later. "Tomoe-san... are you happy?"

"Happy?" she echoes with a blank expression. "I don't know what you mean by that. Happiness is a luxury for people with friends, with families that love them. I fall into neither category, so happiness is not something that I can have."

Rather than being shocked by her response, he seems to have expected it. His smile has grown bitter. "Tomoe-san, that day we came to this shop together, you were smiling. You looked happy."

Finally her hand, which had been hovering over the right side of her face, drops back to her side. And she closes her only visible eye. "I... _was_ happy," she admits. "But happiness is a fragile thing. It was there for a moment, and then it was gone the next. Happiness is scary."

Suddenly a heavy hand drops down onto the top of her head, prompting her eyes to snap open. Thrown off balance, she clings to the front of Kiyoshi's uniform as he ruffles her hair. "I like it best when you're smiling, Tomoe-san."

Those words hit her hard, like a fist to the gut. Kiyoshi's kindness is like the sunlight peering through the darkness. The more she tastes his warmth, the more greedy she becomes—wanting more and more of it. Yet at the same time, she has embraced the idea that she is completely undeserving of any of it.

She had come here today expecting words of reproach and admonishment. At the very least, she had thought Kiyoshi would blame her. Instead, she is the one being comforted. And that brings tears welling up in her eyes—no matter how hard she tries to fight them back, it's no use.

"Are you crying?" he remarks with some measure of surprise in his voice.

"No," she lies, gritting her teeth. "I'm not... c-crying." Her voice trembles as the droplets cascade down her cheeks.

The hand on the top of her scalp suddenly cups the back of her head, pressing her face into Kiyoshi's chest. "You're right," he agrees, "I can't see anything. So you must not be crying. You must be smiling, right?"

Although she battles with the thought that this is more than she deserves, Tomoe wraps her trembling arms around Kiyoshi, clinging to him. The tears come faster and faster, a silent sob wracking her petite figure.

A few moments pass with them like this—her one-sided embrace, and Kiyoshi stroking the top of the head as though trying to console her. And the longer she stays this way, the less she wants to peel herself away. Yet she realizes it is inevitable, particularly because a part of her questions what the meaning behind all of this is. Is Kiyoshi comforting her out of pity—or is there some other reason?

Once the tears slow, she pulls away gradually, tilting her face down to hide her swollen red eyes from his view. "Sorry," she whispers quietly. "Not just for today... about what I said before. It's true that it's my fault for what happened to your knee. You have every right to blame me for it."

"I don't blame you."

Incredulous, she cannot help but peer up at him, a puzzled look on her face. "What...?"

"I don't blame you," he says again, reiterating his point. There's even a smile on his face, as though supplementing the sincerity of his statement.

Tomoe cannot mask her disbelief. "Why? Why don't you...?"

"Hm." He nods his head thoughtfully, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's a good question!"

Dumbfounded, she drops her jaw. "W-what? You mean you don't know _why_ you don't blame me?"

He chuckles, mildly amused by her reaction. "If I had to say a reason, maybe it's because you have blamed yourself enough. There's no need for me to blame you, Tomoe-san. You have reasons why you did what you did. While its true that the actions of your basketball team exacerbated the problem, my knee was already damaged."

"Even so..."

"More importantly," he interjects, "What do you intend to do in the future, Tomoe-san? You're a manager again. You said that you told Hanamiya about my knee... but you're not doing something like that now, are you?"

She sobers up quite quickly when confronted with that question. Although she wants to avert her eyes, she forces herself to keep her gaze focused on Kiyoshi's face. "Hanamiya wants me to," she confesses truthfully, "But I'm not currently—I don't intend to do it ever again. You should know, though, Kiyoshi-san... it was something I did all the time when I was manager for our middle school team."

Just as she is about to bow her head, ashamed at her own actions, that hand of his roughly tousles her hair. "The past is not something you can change. But you can control the future."

As always, his words reassure her. And she does find herself wearing a small, almost imperceptible smile. "You're right."

"I finally got to see that smile again."

Embarrassed that he goes out of his way to point it out, she abruptly knocks his hand away. "You're messing up my hair," she mutters, trying to distract him and divert the course of the conversation.

"Haha, you're not being honest at all."

"..."

Now Kiyoshi is the one grinning from ear to ear, thoroughly pleased with himself. "Well, it's time for me to return to practice," he declares.

"Practice?" It takes a moment for her to realize that he must have been skipping out to come meet her. And she does recall it being mentioned before that he intended to return to his basketball team and continue playing. Hanamiya himself had brought up the fact that Winter Cup is only a few months away.

"It's almost summer break," Kiyoshi remarks, changing the subject. "The coach is planning to take us somewhere to practice for a little while. I won't be able to see you much until after that."

"S-see me?" she gasps in surprise. It shouldn't be half as shocking as it is, but a part of her never expected they would see each other again. Hearing that Kiyoshi intends to keep in contact leaves her gaping.

"Mm," he nods. "You don't want to meet anymore?"

"I-I do!"

This time when his puts his hand on her head, he gives her a gentle pat. "That's good to hear. Then let's keep in contact." Before she can agree with him, his phone suddenly starts ringing noisily from the pocket of his uniform. "Ah, that's probably the coach," he says with an uncomfortable chuckle, seeming to grow a little pale.

"Okay. Be careful at practice." Those words seem a little odd coming from her, but she does honestly worry about the condition of his knee. Especially since he didn't opt for the surgery. She knows better than anyone—having watched him in therapy several times—that his career as a basketball player will still be limited.

Just as he is about to turn away and leave in the opposite direction, Kiyoshi hesitates, holding his phone in his hand. "We will probably meet Kirisaki Daiichi at the Winter Cup," he says.

"Yeah... I know."

Kiyoshi turns his back to her—and it makes it difficult to gauge his expression. Especially with how cryptic his next words are. "This time I will be on the court when we win."

She is not sure how to respond to that—the guilt pricks at her chest.

"When we win... I'd like for you to stop feeling indebted to Hanamiya, Tomoe-san. At that time, I hope you'll reconsider my confession."

Those words startle a flabbergasted look out of her, but Kiyoshi does not peer back to see it. He lurches into motion as soon as he has delivered those words, leaving Tomoe behind with her heart pounding so loud that she's deaf to all the other noise in the area. And she remains frozen in that spot, staring after Kiyoshi as he disappears into the crowd.

It is only once he's gone that Tomoe realizes that her own phone is vibrating in her pocket. Although she feels a little apprehensive about it, she draws the device out and checks the screen. The call has already ended by the time she gets it—and of course, it is Hanamiya. In fact, she has _fifteen_ missed calls from him.

Her stomach knots up at the thought of how livid he will be when she gets back. In fact, she thinks maybe it's better not to return to the school. If she does, he definitely won't go easy on her.

As much as she knows she will regret it tomorrow, she does not want this day to be ruined. At the very least, she wants to savor this happiness for the short amount of time it will last. So she stuffs the phone back into her pocket. Just for today—she tells herself—just for today, she will ignore Hanamiya. Tomorrow she'll accept the full repercussions of her actions.

Resolved to that, she drags her feet on the way back to her house. A taxi would be faster, but all the same, she is not eager to return home. But by the time she sees the ivory house rising in the distance—a stark contrast to some of the Japanese-styled houses surrounding it—it seems that the time has passed far too quickly.

The house is the picture of perfection, an ideal. She marches up to the gate, swiftly opens it, and ducks inside. The moment she enters, the air is filled with barking from the dog chained in the corner. At the very least, it is not the vicious snarl of some ferocious guard dog, but the friendly chirping of a golden retriever whose tail is wagging too fast to follow.

She gives him a smile for his efforts to entice her to come over and pet him, and for at least a moment she deviates from the stone path leading up to the front of the house. Strolling over to the dog, she gives him a gentle pat on the head, which seems to sate his hunger for affection.

Turning her back to him, she heads back into the front of the house, discarding her shoes hastily at the front door. She barely makes it in the spacious, grandiosely decorated living room, when an older woman enters at the same time, taking notice of Tomoe's presence.

"Oh, you're home from school," she declares with a smile. "You were kind of late, I was worried."

"Sorry, Michiko-san," Tomoe apologizes somberly. "I was meeting a friend."

A look of disappointment briefly crosses the woman's face, but she quickly dismisses it and widens her smile. "That's fine, I trust you. Oh—I made some snacks and left them in the kitchen for you and your other friend."

"Other friend?"

"Mm, Hanamiya-san came over, so I invited him to wait in your room until you got home."

The color drains from Tomoe's face as she abruptly drops her book bag, racing up the flight of stairs leading to her bedroom on the second floor. She darts down the maze of hallways and thrusts open the door to her room.

"You took your sweet time," a voice greets her as Hanamiya peers over at her from where he is lying, sprawled out on her bed. The television is blaring in the background—apparently he was watching something to preoccupy himself until she arrived.

She swallows hard. "Why are you here?"

He shrugs his shoulder halfheartedly, as though disinterested. "Your mother was accommodating. All I had to do was call us _friends_ and she led me right in here."

"She's not my mother. You know I was adopted."

Ignoring her voice of dissent, he stands abruptly and strolls over to her, slamming a hand against the door-frame, as though blocking her exit out of the room. "You went to meet him, didn't you?"

Tomoe just stares back at him without answering.

And while she expects him to force the answer from her, or make some cutting remark about her or Kiyoshi, his attention his drawn to something else. "Your eye," he says, focusing on it intently. "You were crying?" Rather than sounding concerned, he sounds more incredulous—almost indignant.

"I—"

Suddenly he seizes her by the shoulders. "What did he do?"

"Are you asking because you're worried? Or because you don't want anyone else to affect me like you do?"

His expression gradually contorts—as his anger at Kiyoshi gradually transfers back to her. And suddenly he wrenches his hands away, as though disgusted to have touched her in the first place. "What a waste of time. Don't ask me disgusting questions. Move out of the way."

That's not the answer he usually gives. Wouldn't he usually pretend to answer her earnestly before rubbing his insincerity in her face with some sarcastic remark?

Before he can brush past her, she throws her arms around him, impeding his movement. He immediately tries to peel her off, but Tomoe clings to him. "I know," she says in a strangled voice, "I know I disgust you... and you hate me... I hate you, too. But you know... you're the only person who has never abandoned me. And I haven't abandoned you. So please..."

Saying that she couldn't abandon Hanamiya may have been a half-truth—because more than anything, Tomoe just doesn't want to be alone again. Losing Hanamiya is the equivalent of losing the confidence that she isn't alone anymore.


	10. the thinning line between

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the slight delay on this, proofreading it I waffled between being okay with it and being unsatisfied. After some corrections I think I'm satisfied with it, hopefully you guys enjoy it! If you end with more questions than answers it's because the answers are coming, I promise!

As always, thank you guys so much for the amazing reviews, I really appreciate all the wonderful feedback. I hope to update early at least one more time next week if Uni will give me the opportunity to do so. Until next time!

**Quick Note: **When Tomoe says she brought Hanamiya (ergo brought flowers), she's referring to the fact that his last name has the character (花 - hana) for flower in it.

* * *

_the thinning line between_

_you and my sanity_

_is quickly fading_

**chapter ten**

"_This_ is the place you had to come before we left for training?"

"You didn't have to come," Tomoe says somberly, peering over her shoulder at the person climbing up the flight of stairs behind her. It's still early morning, and although the peak of summer is upon them, a mist has wrapped around the city. It's particularly thick on this incline up to the cemetery.

Hanamiya does not answer her. He has his hands shoved firmly in his pockets, a scowl on his face as he follows her from a minimal distance. He probably followed her to begin with because he suspected she was going to meet Kiyoshi.

"You didn't bring flowers," he points out.

That empty remark is surprising if only because she has come to expect only scathing, sadistic comments from him. Nonetheless, she smiles bitterly, "Didn't I? I brought you."

"What a crappy sense of humor."

Unfazed by his disparaging reply, she continues to clamber up the stairs until finally reaching the top. Taking a sharp right turn, she starts down a narrow row of unkempt graves. At the far end, she pauses in front of one surrounded by overgrown grass. Thick vines are wrapped around the stone, obscuring the name. Frowning, Tomoe reaches her hands toward it, tearing weeds away.

"I came to visit," she says quietly as she continues to pluck the weeds surrounding the grave.

Hanamiya lingers behind her wearing a look of disinterest. He continues to watch her in silence, offering neither words nor a helping hand—though the latter is not something that Tomoe would dare expect anyways.

The air feels a little awkward, and it's not because there's an unwanted onlooker. Tomoe has always been awkward in front of her mother—maybe because she is an awkward person in general. She feels even more tense when she has cleared the grave and has no more busywork to distract her.

When there's nothing else to do, she settles down in front of the grave, her legs folded beneath her. She wrings her hands nervously in her lap. "I brought someone to visit," she says finally, giving a glance back at Hanamiya. He avoids her gaze, turning his head away. In fact, he seems to sense that he is impeding on something important and personal, so he starts back toward the stairs, leaving Tomoe behind.

In his absence, she does feel that the atmosphere is less oppressive. She looks back to the name marked on the grave. _Fujiwara Ayako. _Suddenly outstretching her hand, she traces each character as she speaks, "You saw, right? That person saved me. When I was drowning in self-hatred—when I wanted to just _disappear_... he's the one who pulled me out.

"There's someone else who is important to me, too. He's really bright. Like... the sun." Thinking about Kiyoshi stirs a feeling of nostalgia in her—memories of their first meeting, and their subsequent talks. She smiles without thinking. "He made me want to be a better person."

Silence is the only response she receives—alongside a gentle breeze that caresses her cheeks, tousling her hair. For a moment, although she is sure it is only her imagination, it feels like her mother stroking her head. It takes her back to the happier moments of her childhood, although there were not many of them, and she scarcely remembers much about it in the first place.

A feeling of loneliness washes over her, and Tomoe struggles to choke back the tears. It's strange to become so emotional now. In the past, she just felt numb to the absence of her mother. But now Tomoe feels a void in her chest when she thinks about her.

"I keep getting saved," she whispers, bowing her head down to hide the tears brimming over. "By the nice family who adopted me, by Hanamiya, by Teppei-san... Mom, I'm so _lucky_. But I feel so _ugly_."

The sound of her sniffling echoes in the emptiness of the cemetery. With no one to witness the display, she quickly wipes her face with her sleeve—feeling ashamed to be crying to a gravestone.

"I won't be visiting for a while," she says, feeling a little guilty about how many times she has made empty promises in the past, swearing to "visit more often" and never fulfilling them. "But when I do, I will bring you flowers." Almost affectionately, she strokes the top of the gravestone.

After a long moment of silence, Tomoe stands. She wears a look of resolve on her face as she starts down the narrow stone path leading back to the staircase. When she gets there, she finds Hanamiya loitering, his back turned to her. He seems to hear her approach however, and turns to get a glimpse at her face.

"Finished?" His brows arch as he cocks his head back. It's the usual mannerism that precedes one of those snide comments she has grown so used to hear from him.

"Yeah," she says, preparing herself for whatever nasty thing he is about to say.

Yet contrary to her expectations, he drops the conversation and starts down the stairs, pausing only when he realizes she is not following. At which point she receives an expectant, impatient glare.

"I-I'm coming..."

—

It is a short yet uncomfortable ride to the training site. The bus is packed full of gruff looking basketball players that she has spent only the past two weeks in a gym with. They're almost like strangers to her; she has never really communicated with any of them—at least outside of the regulars. Their questioning leers in her direction make her utterly uncomfortable. It feels as though she's an unwanted presence among them.

There is, however, something ironic about the fact that she actually feels reassured sitting beside Hanamiya during the ride, as though no one would dare say anything to her or approach her as long as he is around. Perhaps that's not even true in the first place—he is hardly like her bodyguard. If anything, he is just as poisonous as the rest of his team.

At the site itself, Tomoe finds herself swept up in busywork while the rest of the team actually engages in a training regimen set up by Hanamiya. It isn't until early evening that they return from practice, drenched in sweat and heading straight for the showers. This consequently leaves her saddled with the task of dealing with their dirty laundry—a less than desirable duty.

She sighs to herself as she gathers all of the clothes in a basket and heads down to the laundry room. In the back of her mind, she considers whether or not this is even a normal function for a manager—or whether this is something that Hanamiya pawned off on her to make her suffer. The latter, she thinks, seems the most likely.

Once everything has been stuffed into a washer, she settles down in an empty seat and glances at her phone. She has been checking it more frequently than before—ever since she met Kiyoshi.

One wistful sigh later, and she realizes that there is someone standing in front of her. Startled, she jerks her head and looks up—surprised to see that rather than Hanamiya, it is actually... "F-Furuhashi-kun," she greets nervously with a tremor in her voice.

The dead, glazed look in those brown eyes of his always unnerves her. But he seems to regard her with little interest. "The team wants you to get drinks," he informs in an even tone, absent of any emotion.

"D-drinks?" she echoes back, confused. But she quickly backtracks, not wanting to pursue the matter with him. He creeps her out enough that she wants to keep their conversation brief. "Okay, I got it... um... is there any particular flavors or...?"

He shrugs his shoulders, indicating that he doesn't know. Or otherwise does not care. The former seems just as likely as the latter.

"R-right, then I'll just... get a variety." Standing abruptly, she sidesteps him and hurries out of the room, not wanting to spend another second near him. It strikes her as a little odd that he, of all people, was sent to deliver such a message to her.

Sighing to herself, she steps out of the building, walking at a brisk pace. At least until she gets a glimpse of the sky—which is smeared an eerie gray, with storm clouds impending above and threatening at any moment to erupt with pouring rain.

Her lips thin and she picks up her speed, heading for the nearest convenience store. Fortunately it's a short walk, just one block over. As soon as she enters, she reaches for a basket before heading for the drinks. She hesitates when she gets there, because she still has no idea what exactly she is picking out. This is actually the first time she has been asked to perform such a task—menial as it may be.

When she gets up to the cash register, she hastily fishes out her wallet, yanking out a few bills and passing them over to the man behind the counter. It is when she returns her billfold that she realizes that her cell phone is not in any of her pockets. For a moment she panics—wondering where it could be. But then she realizes that she must have left it behind in the laundry room earlier.

"Miss? Your change."

She breathes a shaky sigh as she takes the proffered coins and receipt, stuffing them into her pocket. Taking the two sacks of drinks into her hands, she grits her teeth from the heavy burden of weight and starts out the door. Yet as soon as she is outside, she realizes—from the protection of the awning she is still standing under—that it has already started raining.

Inwardly, she wants to curse herself for not grabbing an umbrella—not that she had one in the first place. But she can still duck back into the convenience store and buy one. Yet when she considers it, balancing the two sacks will be even more difficult if she's trying to hold up an umbrella.

Ultimately, she dismisses the idea. Better to run out into the rain and just hurry back. If she runs fast enough, she won't be too drenched. There are showers back at their residence anyways, and a warm change of clothes waiting.

That coaxes her out onto the sidewalk, and she hurries through the narrow streets. The rain is pouring down, droplets hammering right into her face. The visibility is terrible, but at least the rain itself isn't _too_ cold.

Just as she is rounding a corner, the bottom of one of the sacks gives out and suddenly all of the cans go rolling in every direction. A part of her thinks to abandon them, but she_ did_ pay for them. Moreover, she might not even have enough for the whole team if she doesn't collect them all.

Frowning, she sets the intact sack aside and chases after each individual can, scooping them up into her arms. With nowhere better to put them, she ends up balancing them in the crook of her shirt, grabbing the hem with one hand. It exposes the base of her stomach to lift and cradle the fabric in makeshift basket for all the cans she's collecting, but there's little other alternatives for her to use.

"Kurosawa!"

The voice sounds so distant that at first she thinks her ears are just playing tricks on her. At least until she hears the cacophony of footsteps through the blaring sound of rain hitting concrete, followed by a hand that roughly seizes her by the shoulders, nearly knocking her off-balance and almost sending the gathered cans flying from the cradle of her shirt. She barely manages to steady them before she realizes that she's no longer being hit by the rain.

"What are you doing out here?" a voice demands from above, sounding absolutely livid.

She is a little startled by his tone, and nervously peers up at Hanamiya. Those thick brows are set against his narrowed eyes as he glares at her. "I'm bringing the drinks back," she tells him obliviously, unsure as to the reason for his anger.

He opens his mouth to respond, but a crack of thunder drowns out the sound of his voice, followed by a blinding strike of lightning just overhead. The ground even seems to tremble.

The moment she hears the noise, her mind immediately starts reeling—and it's happening again. As it always does whenever there is a storm. The darkness starts to seep in, all of the color draining from her surroundings—until she cannot even see Hanamiya's face. And she's back there in that closet again, huddled amongst the junk inside, willing herself not to be found.

It's the thunder—it sounds just like those footsteps, growing louder and louder as they approach. She can feel the terror seize her. _Please don't open the door. Please don't find me. _Like a broken reel of film in her mind, it plays out all over again.

They're coming... they're coming _closer_.

Her hands instinctively release the hem of her shirt, letting the cans drop to the ground. Tomoe slaps her palms over her ears to try to block out the sound, although she knows it is futile. It's already too late. Her lashes flutter as her breathing grows shallow, and her knees begin to buckle.

Just as she feels her surroundings starting to fade, she feels something warm against her wrists. Hanamiya is trying to pry her hands away from her ears. At first she tries to struggle, but she cannot overpower his strength. He succeeds with little effort, but when he does, she feels him insert _something_ into one of her ears.

It takes a moment for that to register, until she hears the sound of soft music cutting through the rain and the thunder—loud enough to drown it all out. Her body starts to slump a little, especially once he has managed to insert the earphone into the other ear.

Those warm hands are suddenly gripping either side of her cheeks, and through the sheet of darkness that has settled over her vision, she can dimly see Hanamiya's lips. He is saying something, but she cannot hear it over the music. So instead she tries to mouth out what he's saying.

_Look... at... me?_

Just as she is about to sink down onto the cold pavement, he momentarily disappears from her vision, only to reappear a second later after his arm wraps around the underside of her knees and lifts her off her feet. Being suspend in the air gives her a sense of vertigo that is almost nauseating at first. She snaps her eyes shut for a moment, especially because she can feel the rain pelting her in the face again. It's momentary, though, and when she opens her eyes again, she realizes Hanamiya is carrying her while precariously balancing the umbrella between his chin and shoulder in an effort to shield them from the rain.

A strange feeling overcomes her as she looks up at him, a look of intense concentration on his face. For a moment she thinks this cannot possibly be Hanamiya. Why is he saving her? This person is at once her tormentor and her savior.


	11. the pen with a bent wrist crooked king

**Author's Note**: I'm so sorry, I wanted to post sooner but I forgot I had more exams this week. (There's always something every week in Uni, to be honest.) I doubt I'll be able to update more often than once a week until school is over. So I'll probably be sticking to the usual schedule for a while.

Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews, I'm really overwhelmed by how wonderful you guys are. I hope you enjoy this chapter! More flashbacks!

* * *

_love your ego, you won't feel a thing_

_always number one, the pen with a bent wrist crooked king_

**chapter eleven**

_"Tsk, it's raining today."_

_ "Um, did you not bring an umbrella...?"_

_ Hanamiya peers over his shoulder at her. _

_ The two of them had been detained by cleaning duty, and as a result, are now the only two lingering behind in the main entrance of the building._

_ "What, are you going to give me yours if I say yes?"_

_ For a moment she hesitates, wondering if her answer is the right one or not. But eventually she gives him a nod. "Yeah, I don't mind getting a little wet. You can have mine if you want."_

_ "Oh? If you don't mind, why are your legs trembling?" As soon as he says that, she glances down to see that he's actually right. "What an idiot." He clicks his tongue in annoyance before he starts toward the door._

_ "W-wait! You're mistaken! I don't mind getting wet, honestly. I just don't like storms... so please take my umbrella." As she runs after him, she struggles to pop the umbrella open—and by the time it actually does, the both of them come to the startling realization that half of the umbrella is broken—dangling uselessly—and besides which, the fabric is littered with holes._

_ Whether it is the situation or the dumbfounded look on her face, Tomoe is not sure—but whatever it is, Hanamiya starts laughing. It's the first time she's ever heard him genuinely laugh. Enough that there's almost tears in his eyes._

_ For Tomoe, hearing his laughter is the strangest thing to ever enter her ears. She stares at him with a mystified look on her face. "I... did I make you laugh?" she says in disbelief._

_ "Hah, that was just so stupid, I—"_

_ She takes a hesitant step toward him, a smile gradually rising on her lips. "I-I did, right? I made you laugh."_

_ The traces of amusement gradually die out, and he seems almost annoyed at her dogged pursuit for an answer. So he approaches her and snatches the umbrella from her grasp. "Whatever, this is trash anyways. I'm leaving." As he heads back toward the door, he takes a small detour to throw the broken umbrella into nearby bin._

_ Since they are headed in a similar direction, this is actually an exciting development for Tomoe. They have never actually walked together after school before. She happily follows after him, clutching her book-bag close to her chest. The storm still frightens her a bit, but it's not as intimidating if she's with Hanamiya._

_ They only spend about five minutes in the rain before taking refuge under the awning of a closed bakery. Although by that time, they're both thoroughly drenched. Enough that Tomoe quite literally has to wring the water out of her skirt._

_ Hanamiya clicks his tongue, thoroughly annoyed, scanning the nearby area as though looking for a convenience store. He seems to spot one across the way. And maybe he thinks of either dragging her along with him or abandoning her altogether, but for a moment those empty eyes of his land on her._

_ Tomoe returns his gaze, apprehensive about what's running through his head. She opens her mouth to say something, but a sudden flash of lightning followed shortly by a deafening crack of thunder, silences her._

_ She falls to her knees in an instant, hands firmly clamped over her ears. It's a natural startle response for her. Those loud noises—the bright lights. Another image superimposes itself. And within seconds, she's recalled to that time—that closet. She's in the closet again. Her mother has put her there to "keep her safe." But she hears those noisy footsteps, she's heard the yelling, the shoving, and the subsequent screaming._

_ It's _too_ loud_.

_So she puts her hands over her ears to try to block it out, but it's not good enough. Because she can feel the very vibration of those footsteps; they're coming closer. Terrified, she shoves herself to the very back of the closet, her back to the wall. And she wills herself to be invisible. Please, please, don't see me, she silently prays._

_ But when that door is suddenly ripped open, blinding light infiltrates the dark space and for just a moment she cannot see anything. A rough hand clutches at the fabric of her shirt, yanking her out. Her heart is racing, and she can feel the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. Please no. Please not again._

_ "Kurosawa," a voice calls out to her, stirring her out of the memory. But when she feels a hand graze hers, she instinctively screams and reels back. Scooting across the pavement, she withdraws until her back is against the glass storefront._

_ It takes several more moments of drawn out silence before she realizes that her hair has been pushed out of her face—and the whole reason Hanamiya hasn't said anything else is because he's _staring_ at _it_._

_ "Don't look!" she screams in a shrill voice, slapping her hands over the right side of her face._

_ Contrary to her panic, he kneels down in front of her and reaches his hands toward hers. To her horror, he manages to overpower her and peel them away, revealing the jagged scar that mars the right side of her face. "Is this what you're having a fit about?" He sounds unimpressed somehow._

_ Her arms tremble in his grasp, and she just wants to shrink away. But there's nowhere to run._

_ "Hey, Kurosawa... what happened?"_

_ She freezes at his question, the color draining from her face. She cannot even fathom saying it._

_ "It doesn't matter," he answers for her. "There's nothing wrong with you."_

_ Both of her eyes widen as she stares up at him in disbelief. "Nothing wrong...?"_

_ "No," he answers again, sounding bored this time. Finally he releases his grip on her arms, then promptly stands up. Having composed himself, he offers her a hand. "There's a convenience store over there, let's grab an umbrella and get out of here."_

_ Perhaps he does not realize the significance of his words, or the gesture, either. He is the first person to see and not recoil with a look of disgust. He's the first person to tell her that this hideous scar is not her fault. And while his flippant attitude would lend one to believe he merely said it to coax her out of her panic, Tomoe is not concerned with the motivation for his words. He spoke them—and now he's offering his hand. That alone is enough._

—

_ A solid month passes after that incident—and it's all strangely... peaceful. Tomoe successfully joins the basketball club as a manager, having handed in her application that she received from Hanamiya. Their interactions subtly increase, and although she is not sure she can call them "friends" just yet, it is the first time that Tomoe can remember that she has felt.. happy._

_ She is even smiling as she eats her lunch today. Although she still sits in the classroom by herself every lunch period, she keeps active enough before and after school with club activities that she does not mind the loneliness as much. At least she gets to see Hanamiya and talk to him then. Plus, he still sits in front of her during class._

_ Just as she has finished the last bite and is draining a juice box dry, the door to the classroom suddenly opens. That is usually not enough to get her attention, except that it turns out to be an upperclassman from the basketball team—who makes an immediate beeline for her desk._

_ "Hey, Kurosawa. Hanamiya was looking for you. He's on the rooftop."_

_ She is startled by that. A part of her is a little suspicious, remembering the class president's cautionary words. Outside of their usual shared club activities, Hanamiya does not pay her much attention. She's more like a leech that attaches herself to an unwilling host—an analogy she begrudgingly acknowledges as being accurate._

_ Regardless, it seems strange—why is he calling her out all of a sudden? While she hesitates, the senpai starts walking away without waiting for her response._

_ Finally, she stands up from her desk and starts out toward the hallway. But just as she is passing the class president's desk, his hand suddenly shoots out and catches her by the wrist. Tomoe regards him questioningly—but he does not say anything. He only shakes his head, and she notices that he has gone pale white._

_ His words from before echo in her head. _"You don't know anything about Hanamiya" _..._ "You'll be the one who regrets it."

_There is a forlorn look in those pearl gray eyes of hers as she forcefully pries herself away from his grip. And she repeats the words she told him the last time, "I won't regret it." There is a tremor in her voice this time, though. It is almost as if she can sense that he was right about _something_._

_ She does not find out how right she is, until she arrives to the top of the stairs. For a moment, she hesitates—hand poised to open the door in front of her. Tomoe senses that she can turn back now, and in her mind, she entertains the worst possibilities. If she was wrong about everything she thought about Hanamiya, as the class president insisted, then... will she regret it after all?_

_ For a moment her lashes flutter closed. She can remember how warm his hand felt when she touched it that day in the rain. That gives her enough resolve that she is able to wrench the door open and step out into the warm summer air filtering down through the clouds._

_ But almost as soon as the door slams behind her, she feels something cold wash over her before she can even take in her surroundings. The sound of water splashing echoes in her ears as it soaks straight through her uniform. It feels like ice as it pours down her body._

_ "Hanamiya said you would accept punishment in his stead," a hollow voice states._

_ Droplets cling to her lashes, and Tomoe furiously tries to blink them away. Through the bleariness, she can barely make out the man that is several heads taller than her—towering over her with an empty bucket in his hands._

_ "You're the one who fixed his desk for him, after all, aren't you?"_

_ Initially ignoring his words, she wipes her face with her sleeve. It hardly helps, considering how soaked her uniform is. "I am," she finally answers in a small voice, perhaps not sounding half as intimidated as the upperclassmen expect._

_ "Well, it's not in my nature to hit a girl. So I'm not going to beat you up. Accept this as part of your punishment, and the other part will be meted out in a moment—on _your_ desk this time."_

_ There is a clamor of footsteps as people push by her. She feels one hand shove against her shoulder, knocking her a few steps. It's enough force that she ends up toppling over—and derisive echoes—cut off abruptly when the door slams shut—signal that all those who participated in this "set-up" have already left._

_ Just as she is readjusting her uniform and picking herself up off the ground, Tomoe hears the door open again—and this time, she can see very clearly who it is that approaches her._

_ "Aha, they went easier on you than I thought... or maybe not. Some of the team was headed to our classroom. I guess your desk won't be there when you get back." Hanamiya seems to shrug, as though unconcerned._

_ "Is that why you were nice to me...?"_

_ "Oh no, I was nice to you because I want to be your friend," he remarks in a sugary sweet tone. "Dumb ass, who would say something like that? Of course I don't give a crap about you. I was being nice so you would take the fall for me the first time, and it worked. But I didn't really care about this whole punishment crap—I was more interested in seeing how you would respond. Would you break or not? I was curious."_

_ Her face drained of all emotion, Tomoe stares emptily back at Hanamiya—watching the excitement build in his eyes._

_ "I heard what you said to the class president before. That you 'wouldn't regret it.' So tell me, do you regret it now?"_

_ Tomoe lifts a hand and peels back the layer of bangs—still dripping with water—hanging over the right side of her face. She clocks his reaction the moment he sees her scar again, but just as before, he does not flinch away or show any expression of disgust. Instead he just stares at her expectantly, still waiting for an answer._

_ Once she realizes that he isn't going to turn away, or make some derisive remark, she drops the tresses of hair—allowing them to cover the scar once more. Then she says, "No... I don't regret it."_

_ "Hmmm?" he seems intrigued by her answer. "Are you still stupid enough to think I'm 'not that bad of a guy'? Is that what you're thinking?"_

_ "Yes," Tomoe says honestly. "I don't think you're a bad person."_

_ The amusement seems to be gradually draining from his face—replaced not by surprise, but some other emotion entirely. Whatever it is, Tomoe cannot read it. And she has lost the interest in trying._

_ "Even though I think that, I... really hate people like you." For a moment, her expression flickers—a look of bitterness on her face. But she soon masks with her usual stony facade, and she gives a slight bow of the head as though excusing herself, before she heads toward the door._

_ Left to himself, Hanamiya stares vacantly at the spot where she had been standing moments ago. And the amusement is gradually dissipating from his face. "That wasn't fun at all," he realizes in a frustrated murmur. Instead he feels... empty._


	12. searching for a new hope

**Author's Note:** I'm so utterly exhausted from Uni this weekend that I almost forgot to update. I'm so sorry this is late, thank you guys so much for the reviews and support. Forgive me if I'm late again in the future as it's bound to happen, especially before finals are over. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_spent a lifetime of holding on just to let go_

_i guess i'll spend another lifetime_

_searching for a new hope_

**chapter twelve**

_ A minute—a whole minute has passed. She has been silently counting it out in her head ever since she noticed someone sitting beside her on the bench. Tomoe knows it has to be Hanamiya—no one else dares sit so close._

_ In the background, she can hear the sound of squeaking sneakers—of a ball bouncing and rolling across the wooden floor—and on the other end of the court, the swish of a net. All the noise is deafening, but perhaps the worst part is she is so keenly focused on it because she is waiting. Waiting for him to say something._

_ "You came to practice today," he comments. Hanamiya must be referring to the fact that it has only been a few hours since the upperclassmen poured water on her._

_ "My uniform is dry now," she responds coldly, not really interested in engaging him in further conversation._

_ Although she is trying her best to ignore him, Tomoe can feel the power of his gaze. "Oh? But aren't those guys out there the same ones that trashed your desk? You must be pretty fearless."_

_ Weary of his comments, she finally closes her notebook. Then Tomoe turns her gaze to him, looking Hanamiya squarely in the eyes. He is wearing that lopsided smirk that he has had since earlier. "You know better than anyone how afraid I am," she says, recalling that rainy day again._

_ "You seem awfully fixated on that."_

_ "And you seem awfully fixated on hurting other people—on and off the court. I heard about what you did." It is clear to her at least, that this is not necessarily a topic that Hanamiya seems to think is so _interesting—_because that amused smile is starting to fade away. "Well, I don't know what it is you hope to accomplish by doing that. Maybe you're just doing it because you think it's fun. But I'm not going anywhere."_

_ He cocks his head. "Oh? I thought you said you 'hate' people like me?"_

_ "I do," she agrees with a nod. "But I hate being alone more. So I'll be here, until you abandon me."_

_ The look of mirth he'd been wearing drains from his face. Now he just looks _tense_. Although she is not sure why, considering up until this point he has made light of her every response. Maybe she finally struck a chord._

_ Either way, she stands abruptly, stuffing her notebook into her bookbag. "I'm leaving early." She bows her head quickly and then starts toward the exit of the gym._

—

There is some muffled, distant sound that rouses her. Through bleary, half-hooded eyes, Tomoe gazes vacantly up at the ceiling. It takes a moment for her brain to register where she is—and even longer for her to remember how she got here in the first place. Only vaguely does she recall her return to the hotel with Hanamiya. He had rather surreptitiously dumped her in the hallway once they were out of the rain, and promptly shooed her off before she could even convey a word of gratitude.

Not that she wants to thank him, of course. The thought of being indebted to him makes her feel nauseous—or maybe that's because she is _actually_ sick. She does notice that when she sits up, a wet cloth falls from her forehead and onto her lap.

When she returned to the room the night prior, she barely managed to change before collapsing on the bed. But she is definitely _not_ the person responsible for this wet cloth—and upon inspection, she realizes it's still fairly cold. Someone must have changed it recently.

She tightens her grip on it and starts to get out of bed. Everything is still spinning, and there's an acute pain shooting through her head. Her body had been feeling heavy well before the storm settled in, though. Tomoe blames herself for not medicating sooner to prevent it from getting worse. Certainly being soaked to the bone and chilled for a good hour or more didn't help her.

Before she peeks out of the room, she changes out of her pajamas—resuming her usual casual wear of jeans and a simple graphic t-shirt. Once she is sufficiently dressed, she pokes her head out. Since the hallway appears empty, she decides it most prudent to venture to the eatery next door—where the team has been eating most of its meals since they arrived.

As she is nearing a corner to go to the main entrance, she suddenly hears voices—just in front of the laundry room. Some part of her thinks to make a detour to avoid the commotion, but when she realizes that one of the voices belongs to Hanamiya, she unintentionally starts eavesdropping.

"Furuhashi." Hanamiya's voice sounds unusually pleasant, and just from a cursory glance as she peers around the corner, Tomoe can see that he's wearing a pleasant enough smile on his face. But that deceitful facade always makes her uneasy.

The taller man, who had been walking in front of the captain, pauses to peer back. Those brown eyes gaze not at Hanamiya but instead at the empty air between them. "What," the voice conveys no rise in intonation to give the impression that it's a question—it's more of a statement.

"Yesterday, you were in the laundry room with Kurosawa before she went out." Even though he is making an accusation, Hanamiya's tone does not sound the least bit antagonistic. In fact, his voice gives the impression he's making idle banter with a friend. But there's an undertone to it that sends shivers down Tomoe's spine. "You... didn't try to touch what's _mine_, did you?"

A long silence stretches between them, as though the taciturn man is trying to evaluate the best possible response to the question—or maybe he does not understand it to begin with. Even Tomoe herself feels a little perplexed by the wording.

"Yours?" Furuhashi says finally, echoing the words he just heard. His lips grow taut, almost as though he is frowning. "No, I made a request on behalf of the team. She is the manager—"

"She's _mine_," Hanamiya says, reiterating the point. He seems to drop all pretense of niceties at this point. "Mine to break, mine to order around. "

Those words remind her of the past—when they were on the rooftop after she had that ice cold water poured over her, and Hanamiya, who looked so excited, declared that he wanted to break her. That was why he had been nice to her. And recently, although he has been exceptionally cruel, there have been moments where she has doubted herself again. When he brought her food—when he saved her just yesterday in the rain.

Her eyes land on her shoes, and while she is immersed in thought, she does not realize that the conversation has already been resolved. At least not until she peers around the corner and finds the two figures conspicuously absent from the hallway.

Tomoe's shoulders start to relax, the tension draining from them. At least until she hears a sharp popping sound just beside her ear—then she whips around, startled by the noise.

She finds a familiar face, smiling eerily at her. Beneath a thick layer of bangs, it is impossible to make out his eyes, but his expression looks otherwise very congenial—which she recognizes as highly misleading. "You make a habit out of eavesdropping?" he guesses in a taunting voice, peeling the gum off his face—the explosion of it having left residue flung across the top of his nose to the base of his chin.

"Hara-san," she greets him with a wary tone. Tomoe recognizes that Hanamiya's teammates are every bit as sadistic and dangerous as he is. She has made a point in keeping her distance from all of them.

"Going to avoid my question, huh?" he guesses. "Aren't you going to smile? Aren't you _so_ happy that the captain _values_ you so much?"

"You don't have to patronize me; I know that he hates me, Hara-san." That shouldn't bother her, she realizes, but somehow it does. But hating and being hated—it's not something that is new to her. Why does it cause her pain now?

"Hmm~ what's with that look on your face? Ohhh, do you actually have feelings for the Captain?"

A look of genuine surprise crosses her face as she stares up at Hara, wide-eyed. Like Hanamiya? The thought has never even occurred to her. Not because he has treated her poorly, although that may be true. It's more or less because she has never entertained the idea of anything other than a reluctant need to cling to him because she has nothing else. What room does something like love or affection have when she's just aiming for survival?

While she is trying to sort everything out, a loud _pop_ startles her right out of her thoughts—and Tomoe realizes that Hara is now smirking at her. He seems under the impression that he made an accurate assessment.

The fact that someone like him is making her second guess herself is unnerving. Her hands ball into fists at her side, and she quickly brushes past him, walking at a brisk pace. Only belatedly does she throw an, "Excuse me," over her shoulder before hurrying right back to her room.

Her stomach is still growling noisily enough, but her thoughts drown out the noise. The questions are racing through her her head, already throbbing with pain. _What's wrong with me? Is it because I'm sick? Why would I think of Hanamiya in that way? Am I thinking of him in that way? Is Hara just messing with my head?_

Once she is safely back in her room, she presses her back to the door and slumps to the floor. Numbly, Tomoe tucks her hand into her pocket, producing her found it earlier on her bedside table when she woke up—someone must have returned it to her room for her.

With trembling fingers, she scrolls through her short contact list. For a long moment, she stares at Kiyoshi's name. Maybe it's because she's sick—never before has she experienced so profound a need to seek comfort in someone else. But right now, more than anything, she thinks she would feel reassured if she could just see his smile, or feel that warm hand patting her on the head.

_'I want to see you.'_

She sends it without even thinking, and regrets it moments later as she drops her phone to the floor. What a stupid thing to say. There's no way they can see each other—he told her as much. Why would he want to see her, anyways?

The room is filled with silence as the tears slowly roll down her cheeks. Tomoe stares emptily up at the ceiling, bearing the pounding in her forehead. There are goosebumps on her arms, and she's shivering. It's probably because of the fever.

But through her stupor, she feels the phone vibrate in her hand. Surprised that she got a response so quickly, she hastily opens his message.

_'Does this help?'_

Although he's clearly covered in a sheath of sweat from practicing, he's grinning blithely into the camera. It's a rather goofy, poorly taken selfie—but all the same... it has a more profound meaning than he probably realizes. That she received a response, and for him to have stopped in the middle of his practice just for her...

The tears fall faster as she struggles to type out her response. It is a simple one that does nothing to convey the depth of gratitude that she feels.

_'Thank you.'_

She doesn't expect a response, but she receives one almost immediately.

_'Are you feeling lonely?'_

The black text glares back at her as she stares at her phone. Lonely? Yes, she definitely _did_ feel lonely. But now... some part of her feels whole again. Even the briefest interaction with Kiyoshi puts her at peace.

When she thinks about that, she realizes something. All this time that she has clung so desperately to Hanamiya, it was because she was alone—if she lost Hanamiya, she had no one. No reason to exist. But maybe... that is not the case anymore.

_'Not anymore. I'll be okay now.'_


End file.
